American Outlaws: A Sequel
by The Crazy Conook
Summary: A sequel, indeed. The rating's been bumped up just to be safe. Some violence in this chapter, y'know? Don't forget the reviews, people!
1. I don't own this movie

Author's Note: Okay, this is kind of a sequel to American Outlaws.. except that Jim didn't die, he was shot and lived. Lonnie died though, and Jesse still left to get married to Zee. Just so all of you readers know and don't have to flip out when I mention Jim or something. It's about two years after the original, too. Oh yeah, I don't like Zee. You'll be able to tell that by the end of this.. installment. Or whatever. Anyway, onward!  
  
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It was cloudy in Tennessee; the air was heavy with moisture. The wind was playing with the trees gently, bringing a warm breeze through the open window where the once notorious Jesse James stood, peering out from behind billowy white curtains. There was a storm coming, he could tell. He had a knack for such things. A crack of thunder confirmed his belief as he sighed lightly and turned his head from the window and those dark, ominous skies.  
  
He wished he knew how it was going in the bedroom; he couldn't stand the wait anymore. Zee had been sick for days now and it didn't seem to be getting any better. Finally he'd called for a doctor, an old friend of his who he knew wouldn't tell anyone of his whereabouts. Doc Mimms. And whom else could he trust better than his own father-in-law? It took him a week to get here from Missouri, but Doc didn't seem to mind one bit.  
  
There was the sound of a door opening and the haggard form of Doc Mimms suddenly appeared in the living room. There were tears in his eyes when Jesse saw his face and suddenly he knew everything was not okay. He moved to the older man with an inquisitive look on his face. He didn't even have to voice his question.  
  
"It's been too long, Jesse," Doc sounded so sullen. He had reason to. "Maybe if we caught it earlier, but no helpin' it now."  
  
Jesse's breath hitched and he sat down with a thud into one of the large armchairs that decorated the James' living room. His head dropped and his frame tensed, obviously holding back the fact that he wanted to cry. He wasn't ready for this. It was too soon. She was too young to die. As cliché as it sounded, it was true.  
  
"What's wrong with her?" he asked in that fine Southern drawl without bothering to raise his head.  
  
"She's got the cholera," it was all he could do to stop from choking on his words.  
  
"Oh," he was silent for a minute. Then, "Well, how's that?"  
  
"There're lots of reasons. You been eatin' anythin' dif'rent?"  
  
"She.. She wanted somethin' fancy for dinner a couple'a weeks ago. We went int'a town an' I got her some nice shellfish. Could that be it?" Jesse's voice shook.  
  
"Suppose so, yeah," his whole face wrinkled and he plopped into the adjacent chair. This was too much. First Webb and now Zee. How could God hate someone so much?  
  
Jesse cleared his throat. "Doc," his head was raised at last, his eyes boring into his father-in-law, "can I see her?"  
  
"I reck'n you should," he paused and looked away. "I've already said my goodbyes."  
  
Jesse had pushed himself up off the chair without waiting for an answer, and he was halfway through the bedroom doorway when he caught what the Doc was telling him. He stopped mid-stride at the sudden realization, even though it had been told to him quite clearly moments ago. His hand gripped the wooden doorframe and he shut his eyes tightly. Why her? She didn't deserve it. He continued his step through and into the bedroom.  
  
The bedroom was rather empty, save for the large bed in the middle of the room and the nightstand on its right side. The walls were whitewashed but not as empty as the actual room. They were dotted with pictures of Jesse and Zee, variations of his wanted posters that Zee had so carefully framed and hung, and even a picture of the Younger brothers before they had taken off to fight the railroad. The floor was hardwood and covered with a large rug, at least under the bed. He'd put it in after Zee had complained that the hardwood was just too cold in the morning. Well, she wouldn't need it now, would she? She probably wouldn't see another morning.  
  
Jesse moved quietly to the bed in the center of the room, to the pallid, still figure lying on it. He sat down slowly, so as not to disturb her, and took up her hand gingerly. Her hand was clammy and deathly cold, and his breath hitched again when he felt it. He hated seeing her like this. She was so full of life before, irrefutably sound with who she was, unlike many of the women he knew and, er, had "relations" with. He didn't want to see her lose that, but she was. She was fighting it, but she was losing. Her head turned at his touch and with some amount of effort he managed to smile at her.  
  
It would be obvious to a blind man that this woman was sick. Her pillow was damp with sweat and her hair clung to her face and neck, darkened from those beautiful blonde strands to a muddied brown that made her look even more pale than she was. Her brilliant blue eyes were rimmed with red like she'd been crying, and she probably had. She probably knew as well that she didn't have much time left. Her once red lips were now dry and cracked and had taken on more of a purplish color. They parted as she made an effort to speak with her dehydrated and hoarse throat.  
  
"Jesse.." her mouth twitched. She was trying to smile.  
  
"Zee, shh, it's alrigh'," he couldn't stop the tears now, but he refused to break down and cry.  
  
"I was thinkin', maybe, we could start a family. We better start soon, y'know." It was obvious that the fever was the influence of that statement. He didn't care; pretending there was a future for them was welcomed.  
  
He smiled through his tears and let out a small, choked chuckle while nodding his head. "Yeah baby, of course. Lots o' kids. Maybe a dog?"  
  
Her facial expression mirrored his own after moments: The tears, the smile. She had come back to her senses for the second, and seemed to realize what she'd just said was not only implausible but also downright crazy. It hurt her to take in that fact and her smile faded; the tears stayed.  
  
"Jesse.. Am I gonna die?"  
  
He didn't answer her. Instead, he pulled himself closer and ran a hand through her hair slowly. "You're beautiful, Zee. I love you."  
  
She smiled again, the effort showing its wear on her face. He raised the hand he was holding previously and touched it to his face affectionately. Her fingers flexed against his cheek in response and he kissed them gently. And suddenly her chest caught and her breath became faulty. He knew what was coming, and found it rather odd that it was just as he said goodbye. Damn his mother's Lord. Her faith hadn't helped her much, either. He watched helplessly as Zee's life just drained out of her.  
  
"I," she took in a sharp breath and looked right at him, "love you, Jesse James." Her gaze became unfocused immediately afterwards and her head lolled to one side. She was unable to keep it in that position anymore. Again the breath caught, she held it in for a second, as if fighting the inevitable. Then she surrendered, letting out a soft breath of defeat. Her eyes stared listlessly across the room and Jesse dutifully closed them for her.  
  
He sat there with her for almost an hour afterwards, his fingers silently stroking the hand he still held to his face. Doc Mimms came in to see that his last child had passed, and left a few seconds later for reasons unknown. Jesse stood and placed his wife's hand down on their bed gently, clearing his throat and leaving the room wordlessly. He stepped through the door and closed it softly, just in time to catch the weight of his body as it collapsed against the strong wood. He slid down to the floor, his back never leaving the surface of the door, and buried his face in his hands.  
  
With another rumble of thunder, the skies ripped open and it began to pour. 


	2. or the characters

Author's Note: Not a big fan of Clell's, either. Stupid Clell. He should've died instead of Jim in the real movie. He barely even said anything, and he wasn't even cute. Bah. 'Least Jim was cute! Oh yeah, I'm not racist, but honestly, if the gang was on the Confederate side, do you really think they'd have Tom around? Just wondering.. And now that I know people are reading this, do you guys like the title or do you have any suggestions? I'm open to them, so please, feel free if the title sucks.  
  
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The remainder of the James-Younger gang (including Frank, who had decided not to follow his younger brother) stayed close to the Kansas-Missouri border after Jesse left with Zee for Tennessee, despite the fact that they were still wanted criminals. None of them would've given up the life anyway. It was just too exciting to leave.  
  
Cole was the "leader" now, but Frank was the driving force behind his brilliance. He always had been, even when Jesse and Cole were arguing about who was in charge. Bob was definitely Cole's right-hand man; he was his brother, after all. Jim had become a powerful asset to this little band of robbers with the turn of his seventeenth year. Now that he had ridden with them for about two years, they deemed him fit to actually handle things on his own without supervision. McClelland was there as well, physically if not mentally. He barely said anything anymore, just went through the motions like some kind of puppet. He was worse than Comanche Tom, who was naturally stoical and indifferent, but even Tom's heart was in it.  
  
They were still a part of this "war with the railroad", even though the railroad wasn't exactly threatening the area of Kearney, Missouri. In fact, they hadn't been really threatened since the Pinkerton detectives went around on their mad pyrotechnic spree two years ago. But the life was good, so who was going to argue with it? Saying they were at war with the (Yankee owned) railroad was a fine excuse, it gave people the belief that maybe the Younger gang was doing some good while robbing those banks. People thinking you're the good guy equaled places to stay for the night when a posse was hot on your trail.  
  
Speaking of places to stay, the Kearney Inn was such a place, with no law interference, so long as you lied low and didn't bring attention to yourself. Unfortunately, Jim didn't fully understand that concept, which might've been why he and Bob were now surrounded by five quite robust excuses for men with their guns at the ready. It didn't take much for Jim to realize that he shouldn't have yelled "Son of a bitch!" quite so loudly when they were hiding out behind the tree line and Bob had accidentally (well, accidentally on purpose) punched him in the face because he was "breathing too loudly". They had seen the posse coming when they were returning from just outside of town and assumed that they'd be able to hide while the posse members passed them. Assumed. So now here they were, and it didn't look too good.  
  
"They got one helluva price on your head, Younger," one of the men waved his gun dangerously as he talked to Bob. "Well why d'you think it's there?" Jim was trying to be menacing. Without a gun, it was pretty difficult.  
  
"Jim, I don't think this is the time to threaten the guys wit' the guns." Bob was backing up towards the tree line slowly. The men wouldn't notice, he was pretty sure they were about as smart as a sack of potatoes.  
  
"Yeah, lissen t'your brother, boy," a second man moved closer to Jim, jabbing his gun into Jim's left shoulder.  
  
Jim looked thoroughly angry. His eyes darted from the man with the gun to his shoulder to the one off to his left to the third with his gun aimed at Bob. The gears started turning in his head. Bob noticed. He looked to his little brother with a what-the-hell-do-you-think-you're-doing look. Jim didn't respond, only his mouth twitched a little with a smile. Maybe, if he was damn lucky..  
  
"Say your prayers, kid," the second man demanded.  
  
Jim did. Then he raised his hand as quickly as he could and pushed it to the left as hard as possible. The gun went off and the third man flew backwards, letting out a yell of pain as he dropped to the ground. Jim yelled, too, hand moving to his shoulder. The bullet had gone clear through it and into the next man's chest. The first man, distracted by the misfire, turned his head to the noise. Bob sidestepped and took his gun, twirling it and aiming it back at him. Jim stumbled behind Bob and straightened, then reached out with his good arm and grabbed Bob's trench coat, pulling him behind the nearest tree quickly before the second man fired off his gun again.  
  
"Bob, shoot him!"  
  
The first man had apparently found his second gun, because it was chipping away at the side of the tree now. Bob returned fire, hitting the first man in the leg. He fell to the ground hard and clutched his bleeding appendage.  
  
"Bob!" Jim yelled above the gunfire.  
  
"Shut up, Jim! What d'you think I'm doin'? Sittin' here knittin' socks?" he leaned around and fired twice, taking out another guy. The remaining exchanged fire, but Bob and Jim had the cover of a tree and the others were out in the open.  
  
It was obvious that the combined intelligence of these men could qualify for legally retarded. They continued to stand out in the open while Bob picked away at them. They were running out of ammo, and so was Bob, but he had wonderful aim. He waited until they wasted it all, until he heard the clicking of their empty magazines. Bob smiled and then leaned out from behind the tree with a grin at the stupefied posse men. He didn't shoot, just tapped Jim on his good shoulder and stood. The both of them slid out from behind the tree, Bob assuring their safe passage with a raised gun.  
  
The two unscathed men watched them go with total agitation in their forms. They would've given chase except that Bob still had bullets in the gun. One stepped forward and shook his fist violently.  
  
"Gonna get'cha, Younger! You wait!"  
  
Bob chuckled slightly and pulled the trigger, not really aiming at either of the men. It scared them, though, and they hurried off into the woods, leaving their fallen comrades. Jim watched them with a small smile on his face, his hand still gripping at his shoulder. It had created a deep line of blood down his arm, but it the bleeding had ebbed away gradually. Bob noticed.  
  
"Jim, you alrigh'?" he laid a hand on his younger brother's back.  
  
"Ah, get me some bandages and some whiskey an' I'll be just dandy," his voice was rather upbeat.  
  
"That's the Younger spirit right there. You hit us an' we get right back up," he slapped Jim on the back and Jim stumbled forward a bit off balance. "Whoa, Jim, you sure you're alrigh'?"  
  
"On second thought," Jim winced, "I'm not feelin' so great, now." He almost dropped to his knees but Bob caught him. He moved to Jim's unwounded side and took his arm to drape it over his shoulders for support.  
  
They shuffled back to town, Jim leaning heavily on his older brother. His legs didn't seem to want to move anymore. He was still conscious, for the moment, coming closer to passing out every second. He was fighting it, though. He didn't want Bob to have to drag his sorry ass back to town where Cole would scold Bob and later him for irresponsibility. He didn't want to lose his prestige because he got injured while trying to escape from a posse that outnumbered him five to one. With some effort on Jim's part, and most on Bob's, they made it back to the inn with Jim just barely conscious.  
  
Bob wasn't sure where the others were as Jim's weight was added to his own and he was struggling to keep himself off the ground. "Fellas?!"  
  
Frank heard Bob before Cole did. He stood up and looked out the window before actually heading outside. What was so damn urgent that Bob had to be yelling like that? He was answered when he saw the bleeding Jim, unconscious in Bob's arms. He turned his head back to the inn.  
  
"Cole! Go get a doctor!" Frank had jogged over to Bob to relieve him of the dead weight of his brother. Cole came out in a hurry, furrowing his brows at Bob in a mix of worry and anger.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Cole, he'll explain later. Now go get someone t'fix this!" Frank urged his cousin, who glanced at him and hesitantly took off to find a doctor. Frank looked back to Bob. "You hurt?"  
  
"Naw."  
  
"Good, help me carry him. He's heavy."  
  
"Yeah, the hell's he been eatin' lately?"  
  
"I dunno, maybe it's your ma's side'a the family kickin' in."  
  
"You callin' my momma fat, Frank?"  
  
Frank just grinned roguishly as they lugged Jim inside. 


	3. cause I'd be making money if I did

Author's Note: I don't know how to italicize on a web site so when I write something that's actually supposed to be written (i.e. a letter.. hint hint, nudge nudge) it'll be separated by these: ~. Time passing is, like, this star-thing: * Ass-ter-something?  
  
MommiesGirl: I think I know the real story of Jesse James.. of how he was a serious murderous outlaw, not really the charismatic one that the movies have made him out to be. How Zerelda Mimms was his wife. And his cousin. How he wasn't the good guy at all, he was more or less in it for himself. But I'm going with the movie storyline, and Ali Larter bugs me. So I ditched her character, that's all. It's just how I did it. But if I'm completely inaccurate about the real story, I'd love to know the actual one if you wouldn't mind summarizing.  
  
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Just about a week later, Jim was up and about, though still irrefutably sore. The wound wasn't too serious; it had created a small hole that went straight through front to back, making it easy to thread up. It was covered with gauze and wrapped tightly to prevent full movement so that it wouldn't reopen and start bleeding again. Just to be safe, the doctor had suggested that he use a sling as well, and with some initial complaining, Jim finally agreed to do so. Only because Cole had told Jim that if he didn't, he'd go out of his way to make it painful for him.  
  
Currently, he was playing cards with Bob, Tom, and Clell, and losing badly. Mostly because whenever he'd put his chips in, he'd leave his cards face-up without realizing. He did only have one hand to work with, after all. At first, he'd accused them of cheating. When he'd followed Bob's gaze, finally, he'd noticed the state of his cards. Taking a more careful outlook on how he laid his hand on his later turns, he started to fair better. But he had seen Cole and Frank move off to a table in the back of the inn as if they were conspiring about something, and it had distracted him. Hence: His losing badly.  
  
"C'mon, Jim, you in or you out?" Bob urged from across the round table, motioning to his cards with his free hand. Jim tore his gaze away from Cole.  
  
After a moment of consideration, he craftily shifted his cards onto the table facedown and threw in a few chips.  
  
"In," he said simply, though he wasn't done talking. "What do y'think it is that they're lookin' at over there?"  
  
Tom glanced up casually, shuffling his cards, as he had nothing better to do. Clell didn't bother raising his head as Bob shifted uncomfortably. Jim raised a dark brow to his older brother and leaned back on his chair. Bob knew something and it was making him a bit too squeamish for Jim's liking.  
  
"Dunno," Bob answered, refusing to release any real information. Frank would tell Jim when he saw fit.  
  
"Gosh damn, Bob," Jim sounded frustrated. "You'll tell me if I win this game?"  
  
"Tell you what? I ain't got nothin' t'tell you."  
  
"Fine," Jim scowled. He let it be. Bob was rarely one to break. He still didn't know who took momma's last fresh-baked muffin the morning that they'd left Liberty. He assumed it was Cole, but Bob wouldn't say anything at all about it.  
  
"Tom, you in or you out?" Bob tilted his almost bowler version of a cowboy hat to one side as Tom contemplated.  
  
"Out."  
  
"Alrigh' then. I'm in," he grinned broadly at Clell and Jim. Jim rolled his eyes, knowing that his brother was bluffing, but keeping silent. "Any'a you pansies want out, now?"  
  
"Naw," was McClelland's muttered reply. Bob glanced at his friend sideways, and then shook his head slightly.  
  
"Hell no, I'm still in," Jim pushed himself back lightly, rearing the front legs of his chair.  
  
"Good. Call."  
  
"Four of a kind," Clell put his cards down slowly. Bob groaned and threw his cards down in disgust.  
  
"Damn poker, wasn't never no good at it anyway," he grumbled as he stood up and walked away. He needed to cool off. His cards landed face-up, proving Jim's theory that he was bluffing true. He had one pair.  
  
Jim chuckled and watched him go before looking back to Clell. "Beat me too."  
  
There was the slightest hint of smile on Clell's face before he stood up from the table.  
  
Across the room, Cole and Frank were still talking. Jim eyed them curiously before leaving the table as the winner and the loser had moments before. He picked up his Little Joe, the one with the flat top and the wide rims, and tucked it under his damaged arm. He'd go lay down for now. Not that he was tired, but he didn't quite have anything else to do. Bob was drinking, Clell was uninteresting, and Tom had suddenly disappeared. He seemed to be unusually good at doing that. He started for the stairs, but he heard Cole call him.  
  
"Jim, c'mere a second, will you?" he sounded almost grave. Jim turned with his brow raised, unsure of what the tone meant. He approached the table and sat next to Cole, slumping a bit.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Y'know how Jesse's been writin' us 'bout Zee bein' sick n'all?" Frank inquired gently.  
  
Jim nodded, clearer on where this was going now. The back of his mind kept repeating "please let him say she's recovered, please let him say she's fine". He shifted a bit in his seat and looked to the two older men next to him.  
  
"Well, we got this here letter while you was still recouperatin', and, well, just look.." Cole shoved the paper at him callously. Jim blinked.  
  
"Cole, you know I ain't such a good reader."  
  
Cole looked at him sternly and Jim shrugged. "Okay, Cole." His eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. The poor grammar and spelling mistakes actually made it easier to read.  
  
~  
  
March 9, 1868  
  
Frank  
  
I got your letter a few days ago but its been real busy round here. I was riting you before to tell you if Zee was looking better. She wasn't so Doc Mimms came down here to see what was rong with her and he said it wasn't looking real good for her. She died yesturday, Frank. Its only been a day and I miss her more than I ever missd any bodie. You said you'd be in Kernie for a while. I'm coming to meat you there. I can't stay here anymor it herts to much. If I leave tomoro then I can be there in a week maybe nine days. I'm coming evin if you don't want me to I can't stay here anymore.  
  
Jesse ~  
  
Jim finished, raising his eyes from the page now. He had cleared his throat and placed the letter down on the table. "That's dated March ninth. Innit the seventeenth?"  
  
"We got it when you was restin' up. We was gonna tell you sooner, but just t'day is when y'started feelin' better," Frank answered him, folding his arms as he placed them on the table.  
  
"So Jesse should be here anytime now?"  
  
Cole nodded. "Could be later t'day, could be tommorr'a. Hell, he could'a chose not t'come after all. All we know is that Zee's dead an' Jesse's real hurt 'cause'a it."  
  
Jim blinked. Jesse must be a wreck by now. Either that or he'd completely shut himself up and become like Tom. Or worse, Clell. Jim shuddered a little and his gaze darted back to Frank and Cole. Frank tossed his head towards the stairs, wordlessly signifying that Jim was free to continue with what he was going to do. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but instead sighed and pushed himself from the table with his free hand.  
  
" I'm goin' t'lie down or somethin'. Lemme know if he comes, alrigh'?"  
  
Cole waved his hand dismissively at his younger brother, who scowled but made no point to argue anything. It just wasn't the time to bicker about little things like this. He nodded his head slowly and turned, walking towards and up the stairs at the same pace. He reached the room that he woke up in three days ago and tossed the hat onto a chair as he passed. He plopped down onto the bed and carefully removed his sling.  
  
It was quite the ordeal to remove his shirt. He'd thought about turning back halfway through trying to take it off, but he'd never get it back on again if he did. He realized that since he'd already committed to taking it off, he might as well go the whole nine yards. At one point, he'd turned his shoulder in such a way that was so painful he wanted to scream. But he didn't. He gritted his teeth and with some resolve managed to shed his top successfully. With some amount of anger behind it, he threw the shirt across the room and then lay back on his bed tiredly. He breathed in deep and placed his hand behind his head as his brows furrowed in thought. About fifteen minutes passed before Jim's eyelids drooped and he was dozing lightly.  
  
***  
  
Three hours later, after a sizeable nap, Jim woke to the sound of cheery piano music. He sat up slowly, the reddish haze of dusk flooding through the glass of the window and reflecting off the mirror on the far side of the room. The piano plunked away as he stood and shuffled over to the shirt he had thrown on the ground hours previous. It was easier getting it on than it was taking it off. Jim stored that away in the back of his head as he grabbed his hat and left the room, heading downstairs.  
  
At night, Kearney Inn transformed itself into a Saloon, complete with a bar, music, and plenty of "entertainment". Tonight was not an exception, for the lights were bright, the bar was filled, and women were wandering everywhere amidst the uneven sound of the unmanned piano. It was crowded, too crowded for Jim's liking, but he couldn't very well tell them all to leave, now could he?  
  
"Jim!" someone called from within the gathering of people. A hand shot up and Jim headed in the general direction of it. "Jim, c'mere!"  
  
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he grumbled as he headed over to the area, his right hand tucked into his gray slacks. He had forgotten his sling, but maybe Cole wouldn't notice.  
  
As he closed the distance between the one calling him and himself, he noticed that there was a good mass of people surrounding a table off to his left. He raised a brow, curious as to what went on in the three hours he'd been sleeping, and finally met up with Bob, apparently the one who was calling him.  
  
"Bob?"  
  
"Cole told me t'come an' get'cha, but I saw you comin' down the stairs anyhow. Good timin', I might add," Bob nodded slowly, jutting out his bottom lip in an effort to look impressed.  
  
"What? Why?" Jim's sleep-muddled brain hadn't quite remembered what it had requested he'd be woken up for.  
  
"You dense or somethin'? Jesse's here!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, right." Jim pushed himself onto the balls of his feet and craned his neck over the crowd enveloping the table to see Jesse James leaning back in his chair with his booted feet on the tabletop. There were numerous shot glasses around him, most full, but many empty. A little disappointed, Jim sank back down to press his heels to the floor and backed up. They were trying to get him drunk, and he wasn't refusing. Jim hadn't ever seen Jesse drunk, he usually had more sense than that. But maybe sense was something Jesse had lost when Zee died. He couldn't be sure as he backed up and scooted in between patrons to find his way outside. He was stopped when someone violently jerked on his right shoulder and turned him around.  
  
"Cole, the hell're you doin'?" he asked angrily as he realized that Cole was the one that had spun him.  
  
"Where're you goin', ain't y'gonna see Jesse?"  
  
"He looks a lil' busy, is all, Cole."  
  
"Ah, those're jus' some fans that spotted him when he rode up," Cole was looking Jim over now. He'd become aware of the fact that Jim had refused to put on his sling. Jim touched his arm self-consciously, unnerved by Cole's gaze. To his relief, Cole said nothing about it. Instead, he placed a hand on Jim's back and pushed him in Jesse's direction.  
  
Jim almost stumbled into the mess of people, but saved himself at the very last moment by latching onto a nearby chair. He stood up, turning to glare at Cole before wordlessly making his way to the table that seemed to be getting more popular by the second. He parted a few men and was nearly behind Jesse, who had Frank by his right. He'd missed something, because suddenly the group was laughing at something obviously hysterical. As the only one not laughing, apparently he stood out, and Frank spotted him. He tapped Jesse on the shoulder to get his attention and the pointed to Jim. Jesse turned and offered a surprisingly sober smile.  
  
"Jim!" he had to shout over the clamor of the others around him. "C'mon an' sit."  
  
Jim sat. He glanced up at a man who leaned over and put another shot on the table. "Jesse, who are all these people?"  
  
"Got me," Jesse said with a bit of a laugh. "But they're buyin'!"  
  
Jim smirked. He sounded stable enough, but was this just a façade or was the alcohol talking? He motioned to a random shot glass, raising a dark brow. Some juvenile part of him wanted to show his older, famous cousin that he had learned to drink in the past year. "You mind?"  
  
"When'd you stop bein' too young for whiskey, Jim?" he seemed amused. "Go 'head."  
  
"'Bout nine months ago," he picked up the glass and downed it in one gulp, opening his mouth with an "aah" sound before he turned the glass upside down and placed it on the table.  
  
"Pretty good at it, too, ain't he, Jesse?" Frank chimed in from his seat.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed absently as he noted the way Jim was holding himself. "Jim, you alright?"  
  
Jim glanced at his shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, fine. Jus' got in a lil' tussle with some posse members a few days back."  
  
Jesse understood then that he'd been away from his brother and cousins a long time. It hadn't seemed as long, seeing as he'd spent it with Zee. Damn, he was thinking about her again. He couldn't stop; it was too hard to avoid anything having to do with her. Well, at least he didn't tear up every time like he used to. And he got out of that house, where every room there were traces of her, memories that he had forgotten until he reentered the area. It was better this way, he assured himself as he looked up to Jim and turned his head to Frank, because they would help him move on.  
  
"Jesse?" Frank had placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, gripping it a little to get his attention. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I was jus' thinkin', y'know?" he said, turning his head to speak to Jim, who had apparently left. "Where'd Jim go?"  
  
"Dunno," Frank shrugged, removing his hand. His eyes were suddenly looking past him at somebody. "I think Cole wants t'talk."  
  
Jesse turned. Indeed, Cole stood near the back of the room with Tom, Clell, Bob, and Jim, staring at Jesse intently. Turning to face his strange gathering of admirers he lifted a hand and stood.  
  
"Thanks for the drinks, fellas. Y'can help yourselves to 'em, if y'all want," he and Frank pushed through the collection of men and women to get to Cole.  
  
"We still leavin' for Savannah tonight, right Frank?"  
  
"Savannah? What's in Savannah?" Jesse leaned against the wall as he furrowed his brows.  
  
"Our next big haul," Cole answered him smartly, looking back to Frank expectantly. Frank hesitated, his eyes darting to Jesse. Cole sighed impatiently.  
  
"Whad'dya say, Jesse? You up for some robbin'?"  
  
Jesse's eyes rose to the ceiling in thought. He wanted to go, he'd be bored out of his mind if he didn't, but it was a question of if he loved Zee enough to not go back. He'd quit for a reason, for her, and if he suddenly gave that all up.. did that mean he didn't love her anymore? No, he was sure that he did love her, but she was gone. Jesse James wasn't going to be constricted by his wife from beyond the grave, no matter how much he loved her.  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
There were a couple of hoots from Cole and Jim, and the entirety of the group was grinning, including Clell.  
  
"Well alrigh'! Jesse James is back in the game," Bob clapped Jesse on the back and Jesse began to smile as well.  
  
"We're ready to go, too," Tom offered, motioning to the horses waiting patiently outside. "Me an' Clell took care of the horses so that we'd be able to leave whenever we wanted."  
  
"We should be headin' out now, anyway. Y'all had your fun. Time t'get down t'buisness," Cole seemed insistent, but maybe he was just excited. "Everyone's ready t'head out, right?"  
  
The gang nodded their heads sporadically, waiting for Cole to start walking outside. They followed obediently, in silence, spreading themselves out in pairs. If it were a movie, it'd be the epitome of cool, complete with background music that expressed exactly how cool it was. They mounted their horses after untying them, turning them all in the direction of Savannah, Missouri. The beasts snorted impatiently, shaking their heads as they waited for someone to tell them to go. Bob looked to Cole, who nodded in a wordless sort of approval. Bob grinned.  
  
"Let's ride!" he shouted as he dug his heels into the horse's flanks and it took off. Jesse was surprised at this as well. He started off riding, catching up to Frank.  
  
"Bob says that, still? Cole's still lettin' him?"  
  
"Sounds stupid, don't he?"  
  
"Just a bit." 


	4. and Gregory Smith would be my husband

It took three days to get to Savannah. To Jesse, it seemed like three weeks. It would've been shorter if Bob and Jim hadn't spent most of it arguing about which one the bar maid from the last saloon they'd stopped at was looking at when she'd pushed up her breasts and licked her lips. Jim was sure it was himself; she'd winked at him earlier before the actual incident, while Bob was equally as sure because, as he'd stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world: He was Bob Younger. At this, the entire group groaned and rolled their eyes, leaving Bob insecure.. which led him to continue to argue with Jim.  
  
"She was not lookin' at you, Bob!" Jim cried indignantly. "I dunno if she was even lookin' at me!"  
  
"You're right! She wasn't lookin' at you, 'cause she was too damn busy flirtin' with me," Bob said smugly. He would've crossed his arms if he weren't riding his horse.  
  
"Okay, alrigh'. I give up. It doesn't matter if she wasn't lookin' at you 'cause she was lookin' at me. I give up."  
  
"She wasn't lookin' at you!"  
  
"Oh, I think she was."  
  
"Was not."  
  
"Was to."  
  
"Was n-," Cole, who looked like he couldn't handle it anymore, cut off Bob.  
  
"SHUT UP! The both'a you! Just shut up or I swear t'God I'll shoot you!"  
  
Bob could've sworn he'd seen his older brother twitch at the end of his sentence. He fell silent, as did Jim, but only after Jim muttered, "was to". Bob gritted his teeth and nudged his horse in it's sides so that he wasn't quite so near Jim. Cole continued to speak after he'd silenced his bickering siblings.  
  
"Now, lissen here. We're almost at Savannah, ain't we Frank?" Frank nodded, so he carried on. "Y'all know the drill. Should be like clockwork by now. But 'cause Jesse's back with us, at least for a lil' bit," he took a casual sideways glance at Jesse, who returned it, "I'm gonna tell y'all again. Here's how we're gonna do things: Jim, you're still healin' up, so you'll stay outside," Jim opened his mouth to protest, but Cole kept right on talking, "an' you'll make sure nobody comes in.  
  
"Now the rest'a you are comin' in with me. Savannah's got two vaults, an' one'a them just got filled up with a nice load'a Thaddeus Rains' pocket money. Jesse, you keep the teller busy. The fact that you're there would be distractin', let alone with the rest'a the gang. Me an' Frank'll take care'a the bigger vault, Clell an' Bob the smaller one, an' Tom, you got the horses, right?" Tom nodded attentively. "Okay then. None'a you shoots 'less they shoot first. Ain't no one gotta get hurt, right Jess?"  
  
Jesse looked to his cousin with a well-hidden amount of animosity. He was jealous of Cole, of how good he had gotten since he'd left. He was a great leader, but knowing Cole, that would probably go to his head and inflate his already oversized ego. So instead of saying anything, Jesse forced a half-smile and turned his head away again. Cole glanced back at Frank, who shrugged, and then back to the horizon, where the sleepy little town of Savannah was just starting to show.  
  
Fifteen minutes and sixty hushed "was not/was to"s later, the gang trotted up to the Savannah bank lazily, not as a group, though, that was too conspicuous. This was just another routine job for all of them, except for maybe Jesse, who'd been out of the loop for a while. Tom slid off his horse slowly, gathering the reins of both he and Jim's horses and tying them up. Cole jumped of his horse, taking a saddlebag for the money like Clell had moments before. Frank followed Cole, rifle held casually at one side, hidden well by his bulk. Bob was leaning nonchalantly on the side of the bank, waiting patiently for the crime to be committed. Jesse led his horse up to Tom slowly, watching them operate. He was getting excited by now, hopping off his horse and flashing Tom a grin before jogging up beside Frank.  
  
"You ready?" Cole asked as he extracted a colt from his holster. Jesse nodded, following suit.  
  
Cole rolled his neck and then lifted his foot, kicking on the door. The slab of wood flung inward, revealing many surprised patrons and one very skinny bank teller. The group walked in, their guns at the ready, and fanned out while Cole began to explain the situation. "Alrigh' ladies an' gen'nlemen, we're robbin' this here bank. Hope nobody has any objections," he turned to Jesse, "You wanna do the honors, Jesse?"  
  
"Jesse James?" the teller asked curiously. He had full, blonde hair and deep brown eyes. "I thought you wasn't robbin' banks no more, Mr. James."  
  
"Well you thought wrong, apparently," Jesse, offering the teller a half- smile while he twirled his gun expertly in his right hand, let the aim fall onto the man behind the bars. He moved up to the barricade after taking Cole's saddlebag and placed it onto the counter. "Alrigh', make this nice an' easy an' jus' put the money in the bag."  
  
The teller obeyed fearfully, not realizing that Frank and Cole had gotten into the larger vault, or that Bob and Clell were working on the smaller one. Everyone was halted, however, when a strange man burst into the bank unexpectedly. Jesse whirled around to face this intruder, holding his guns out imperiously. The man surveyed him curiously, his own rifle raised and aimed at the famous Jesse James.  
  
The intruder was tall, much taller than Bob, who was the tallest of the group. His hair was dark and unkempt, cut to the nape of the neck in the back and just above the ears on the sides while the front was slicked back and out of his face. He had scruff that traveled from the bottom of his ears to meet at his chin, and on his top lip that met at the exact same point on the chin as the other line. His eyes were wild and blue, possessing an intense quality that could scare someone if they maintained eye contact for too long. He was built, his biceps huge and his chest large, almost bursting out of the loose white shirt and gray vest he was wearing. Altogether he was pretty damn intimidating, if you didn't count the suspenders that were holding up his matching gray slacks. The fact that he wore suspenders made him seem tamer, at least that's what Jesse thought as he stared the man down. The man narrowed his eyes, seemingly confused about the whole ordeal of interrupting a robbery-in-progress when he, in fact, came in to attempt his own.  
  
"Who the hell're you?" he sounded angry.  
  
"I'm Jesse James. Who the hell're you?" Jesse sounded equally as angry, but his words were touched with confusion.  
  
"I'm robbin' this bank!"  
  
"I think that's what we were doin', buddy," Bob had emerged from the small vault, leaving Clell to keep collecting. He too raised his gun at this nuisance. "Or did y'not see that?"  
  
"He sees it fine," a new voice explained as three more men made their way into the bank. The one who spoke had a hat on; it covered most of his face and shadowed the rest to make it indistinguishable. The other two were identical, twins was the only explanation for their resemblance.  
  
"Oh Lord," Frank muttered, knowing full well this would turn out to be disastrous. He had his rifle trained on the first man, but he slowly slid it over to the one who was speaking. Cole came up behind Frank, his gun aimed at one of the newcomers as well.  
  
They stood off in silence, each person aiming for another. This would go on forever if Jesse didn't say something. So he did. "Now, fellas, I don't think y'know who you're dealin' with."  
  
"He's right. Not too many folks mess with the Younger gang an' live t'tell about it," Cole said threateningly. He'd purposely left the "James" part out of it. Just because Jesse was riding with them again didn't mean he was automatically supposed to give up his title.  
  
Jesse glanced at Cole, and then back to the one that had come to rob like them. He nodded his head to the side quickly and licked his lips in a mix of excitement and anticipation. "You heard the man, boys. Now step off 'fore we gotta do something," he paused, his eyebrows raising, "drastic."  
  
Ralph had looked into Jesse's eyes while he'd said that, believing that this famous cowboy would be the death of him. He wasn't afraid of death himself, but he was careful of his little gang's members. As he scanned the room warily, he realized that they were outnumbered. Now, one doesn't seem like such a big number, but if you're in an enclosed area with more of a chance of getting shot, then it's one hell of a big number. His gaze turned to a glare as he kept it fixed on Jesse, lifting his finger slowly from his rifle's trigger and pointing the barrel at the ceiling. His other hand slowly made it's way up and soon he was in a full surrendering stance.  
  
"Okay boys, let's go."  
  
"What?!" the boy with the hat asked angrily. "Ralph!"  
  
"Billy Ray," Ralph's voice served as a warning.  
  
Billy narrowed his eyes, his finger still stuck on the trigger while the twins lifted theirs. His hand shook with effort as he placed his gun in its holster slowly. He was itching to shoot someone, to inflict pain on one of these people stopping their robbery, but Ralph would make him pay for it later. He grinded his teeth inside his closed mouth, his hand poised just above the gun's sheath. Jesse raised an eyebrow at him. He figured that one was some sort of loose cannon, ready to go off at the slightest hint of a flame. It unnerved him, so he studied the boy's face intently as the rival gang backed out of the bank. The tension of the moment could almost be seen it was so heavy.  
  
The James-Younger gang watched the men exit, their guns still raised protectively. After a moment, Jesse heard the sounds of horses galloping away. He turned his head to Bob.  
  
"Bob, go see what happened t'Jim an' Tom, will you?" Bob nodded and followed the men's trail, disappearing through the door. Jesse watched him go, realizing there was a task that they had to get back to.  
  
"Alrigh', we're gonna go back t'robbin' the bank, folks. Sorry 'bout the inter-," a gun cocking sounded and Jesse stopped mid-sentence. His first reaction was to duck, the second was to yell, "Get down! Bastard's found a rifle!"  
  
A shot rang out through the bank amidst screams of fear and surprise. Almost everyone hit the floor in one unanimous thump, with the exception of Clell, who was just about to head back into the small vault and finish collecting. Apparently, he was closest to the teller, so that was for whom he was aiming. His body jerked unevenly as he let out a yell of pain that, even though other people were screaming, was easily distinguished. Jesse's head snapped up, as did his guns, and they were suddenly trained on the man that had just shot his friend. The teller was caught off-guard, reloading, so he dropped his gun and threw his hands into the air (A/N: And waved them like he just didn't care) as a symbol of surrender. Frank pushed himself up from his crouching position and hurried to the injured Clell, who now lay on the floor on his back, gurgling incoherently.  
  
"Clell, buddy, where'd he hit you?" Frank's hands hovered over Clell's shaking body, unable to locate the source of blood because it was everywhere. He'd been shot at close range with a rifle and dear god it was messy. Clell winced but couldn't seem to find the spot himself, his hands trailing over his bloodied stomach. So much blood. Frank started to shake himself only it was less noticeable. "Alrigh' Clell, alrigh'. Hold on, you're fine. Help me, Cole."  
  
Cole snapped out of his dazed stupor, dropping the saddlebag unwittingly. He rushed over to Frank and took up Clell's legs hesitantly. The two exited quickly while Jesse kept his gun aimed at the teller's head. Clell was as good as dead and he knew it. Jesse wanted so badly to do something about it, but he wouldn't. This teller was unarmed, and plus the poor boy had pissed his pants. So instead he backed slowly out of the bank, raising his second gun, trying to buy the gang some time to get ready to go. "Sorry 'bout that, folks."  
  
By the time Jesse fully emerged from the bank, the wound Clell had sustained had finally gotten the better of him. He groaned sadly as he spotted his body draped over Tom's horse where Tom had a hand on his back to keep it from falling off. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse caught movement and turned to see Jim standing, albeit a bit wobbly, next to a wooden pole and looking dazed as blood leaked gradually from a fresh cut on his forehead. Cole, Frank, and Bob had mounted their horses and all seemed to be waiting for Jesse to do so as well. Jesse moved quickly to his horse and hopped on, eager to get away from this place.  
  
"Jim, you think you can ride?" he asked skeptically as his cousin began to climb onto his horse.  
  
"I'm fine," Jim said in annoyance, like he hadn't been bashed in the head at all a few moments ago.  
  
Bob looked to Jesse. "I'll ride close, make sure he does okay."  
  
"Alrigh'. Let's go 'fore the sheriff comes."  
  
He started his horse off at a gallop as the others followed, but as they left the town behind their pace slowed. Jesse needed to think, and he couldn't do it on a horse that was bouncing him up and down quite so rapidly. They needed to get somewhere safe, where they could rest for a bit; maybe figure out what that rival gang was all about. They couldn't very well have that happen again, he didn't want anybody else shot. Not like Clell, oh God not like Clell. The sound of horse's hooves, separate from the steady drum of his own, shook him from his essential but brief thought.  
  
"We're gonna have t'stop off an' bury 'im, Jess," Frank's voice was flooded with emotion. It was hard to see something as graphic as death to kin and keep a straight face. Okay, so maybe Clell wasn't kin but he was damn close, he was one of the gang! "It's the right thing t'do."  
  
"O'course. We need someplace t'stay for a bit, too. I ain't just talkin' one night, though."  
  
"There's only one place I can think of, an' we haven't been there in a couple'a years."  
  
"You think Joe Mueller's jus' gonna forget about us 'cause Ma died? How long is it to Esterly?"  
  
"Maybe a three day's trip from here, maybe four. Depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On how quick the burial is."  
  
"Oh," Jesse paused. He hadn't forgotten about that, he just didn't remember they'd actually have to stop. "Yeah, suppose so, huh?"  
  
They both glanced back at Tom, who didn't look like he was fairing too well with Clell as his riding partner. 


	5. while Colin Farrell married my friend

Apparently, the journey to Esterly was exactly what Frank had anticipated, four days. The burial had cost them a day in itself, what with the digging of the grave and the "ceremony". Frank had said something nice and poetic for him as they circled the grave with their hats held solemnly at their sides. Tom had insisted he perform some kind of Native American ritual that would guide McClelland Miller to a safe afterlife as well, but after that there wasn't much to be said or done so they'd continued on their way though their spirits were dampened.  
  
The town was quiet as the Younger gang walked their horses along the dusty main road. Jesse motioned for the others to follow him to the general store, which was simply called "Joe's", as the rickety wooden sign outside signified. Only Frank pursued his brother. The others seemed to want to stay outside, like they were imposing because they'd never met this friend of the James family. Jesse hoped silently that this establishment was still owned by Joseph Mueller, and not some other man by the name of Joe.  
  
"Y'think he's still here?" Frank asked jokingly in reference to the sign as they passed through the small swinging doors of the store.  
  
"I reck'n. 'Less he's dead," Jesse said simply, not catching Frank's humor.  
  
"Jesse? Jesse James?" an amused voice sounded from behind the counter at the far side of the room. Both Jesse and Frank's heads turned in the direction of the sound, and they were met with the sight of a balding man, probably in his late thirties, dressed in a large white apron over a white shirt and black slacks. He was large, the nice way to put that he was quite fat, but had a friendly air to him that immediately displaced any thoughts of unpleasantness. His eyes were cobalt-like in color, and his remaining hair was an orange that had started to fade to gray. He was exactly how Jesse had remembered him. "Frank too? Gosh damn, how long's it been?"  
  
Frank looked at Jesse as if he'd needed to use his brother's face as an abacus then turned back to Joe with a grin. "'Bout two years, I think."  
  
"Yeah.. yeah," Joe said absently, like he wasn't going to bother thinking about it much. He pulled them both into a great hug, patting each on the back. "Good t'see you boys, damn good t'see you."  
  
"You too, Joe," Frank was smiling. Joe had served as a surrogate father to them after theirs had passed on, and there was still that closeness even after a long period of separation.  
  
"What brings y'here? Last I known y'all was wanted criminals. Lookin' for a place t'stay?"  
  
Frank nodded. "Can y'help us?"  
  
"Sure can. How many people're stayin'?"  
  
"Seven," Jesse responded quickly without thinking. Frank nudged him and he cleared his throat. "O-oh, six."  
  
"There a stable or somethin' for the horses?" Frank glanced at Jesse and then back to Joe.  
  
"Jus' down the road, can't miss it."  
  
"Thanks, Joe," Jesse left to go direct the others to the stables.  
  
Frank lingered, a small smile appearing on his face. "So, Joe, where's Alex?"  
  
"Prolly' down by the swimmin' hole with Dean and Lacey. Y'gonna drop by an' say hello?"  
  
"Yeah, figured that was in order."  
  
"Alrigh' then," Joe clapped Frank on the shoulder affectionately. "Come back t'the house when y'all get hungry, 'cause I'll be makin' dinner for y'all."  
  
Frank's smile broadened at the promise of food and he tipped his hat to his estranged father figure. "Thanks, Joe. Really." He offered a wave, which the older man returned and then headed outside.  
  
Jesse was just coming back from the stables with the others as Frank stepped out into the midday sun. He stuffed his hands into his slack pockets and squinted his eyes, looking expectantly at Frank. Frank nodded twice slowly, moving to the group. Jesse canted his head in silent inquisition.  
  
"Down by the swimmin' hole," Frank grinned and tilted his head to look around Jesse. "Where's Jim?"  
  
Jim, hearing his name, leaned out from behind a nearby support beam where he and Tom had been talking. His brows rose as he looked to his older cousin. "Whad'dya want?"  
  
Jesse motioned for him to come near with his head. "C'mon, we wanna introduce you t'someone."  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes in suspicion, stepping cautiously over to Jesse. "Who?"  
  
Jesse smiled lightly at Jim's reluctance and doubt. "Jus' a friend," he said as he began to walk towards the swimming hole with his hands tucked deeply into his slacks. Jim watched him skeptically, but he felt better when Frank began to walk as well. He waited a few moments before jogging after them.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
Jesse glanced at Frank who smirked as he glanced back. "Alex."  
  
***  
  
The three men arrived at the swimming hole to find two young boys standing at the edge of a large bastion-like rock. A solitary tree jutted out from it's top, and although it was dead, it served as a good support for a rope swing. The swing looked pathetic from far away, but it looked even worse as they got closer. It had obviously broken, the strands at the end were frayed and it stopped far above the reach of either boy. The taller, and noticeably older one made a show of attempting to jump up and grasp the rope, but it was clearly futile and he ceased eventually.  
  
The taller boy was lean, but by no means scrawny. He was only dressed in tan slacks; he didn't have much need for a shirt if he was just going to get wet. His pants matched the color of his hair almost, a color too brown to be blonde and too blonde to be brown. His eyes were bright green, and radiated with false abhorrence and spite. After all, he was a teenager. They hated things for no reason, correct?  
  
The younger boy was on the pudgy side, and looked a great deal like his father. He, too, was just in slacks; only his were a dark green that offset his brother's eyes. He had carrot-colored hair atop his pudgy head, and his face was dotted with freckles. His eyes were blue as his father's were, and it was obvious that the gene pool had undoubtedly made them alike in most physical aspects.  
  
Frank strolled up to the water's edge casually, unnoticed by the children initially. It was hard to ignore him though, after he cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Lacey! Where's Alex?"  
  
The older boy, who had started to climb the tree, turned his attention to Frank. He didn't recognize him from his position and, convinced that it must be the sun, squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand. He stepped forward on the rock-cliff, just to the edge, and leaned over to try and get a better view. "Who's askin'?"  
  
"What? Y'don't recognize Frank James when y'see him?" Frank sounded amused as the younger boy squealed and began to run down the back rocks that served as stairs to the cliff.  
  
"Frank?!"  
  
Lacey slowly followed his brother, albeit a bit more cautiously. "Who's there with you? That Jesse?"  
  
Frank caught the young boy up in a hug as he rushed at him, chuckling lightly at his exuberant chatter.  
  
"Wow, I can't believe it! Are y'here with the Youngers?!" his head popped up from behind Frank's shoulder and he spotted Jim. "You.. You're Jim Younger!" his gaze shifted to Jesse, "Jesse! Jesse James!"  
  
By this time, Lacey had reached them, still squinting, only now in thought. "Calm down, Dean. Leave 'em alone. They prolly' come here t'hide out. They don't need y'yellin' their names at the top'a your lungs."  
  
"Oh.. sorry, fellas," Dean's voice lowered an octave as Frank let him go. He stepped away and shuffled his feet as he pretended that a large rock on the ground was more interesting than the three members of the James-Younger gang standing in front of him.  
  
Jesse smirked at the display. "Good t'see y'boys," he leaned down, placing his hands on his knees and making himself eye level with Dean. "Last time I saw you, Dean, you was 'bout eight. How old're you now?"  
  
"Ten, turnin' eleven in August!" Dean chirped excitedly.  
  
"An' you, Lace?"  
  
"Fifteen," Lacey said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.  
  
"How 'bout Alex?"  
  
"Seventeen."  
  
"Where is Alex, anyway?" Frank chimed in from his position on the shore.  
  
"Well, we needed some new rope for our swing," he motioned to the rickety old tree and the broken rope. "So we-"  
  
"So y'made me go fetch some for you, y'lazy sons'a bitches!" a new voice broke in, one clearly female, "God forbid y'move your own behinds t'do somethin' for yourselves!"  
  
The girl approached the group, pushing the coiled rope into Lacey's chest without completely appreciating the fact that others were there as well. She was just shy of Lacey's height, something that bothered her greatly, and had a naturally hourglass-shaped body that was hidden beneath a large shirt, evidently from her father because it was much too big for her small form. Her hair was long and had a spontaneous curl at the ends that was terribly unusual for someone that lived in such a humid environment as this. It was brown, but had been lightened up by the sun so it was a healthy gold. Her eyes were dark, though nowhere near the muddy brown of Jesse's. She glanced up at the three strangers, not fully understanding who they were as of yet, and smiled ever so sweetly.  
  
Jim gaped as the girl recognized Frank and squealed gleefully, latching onto him happily. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, despite the fact that she was in very unflattering clothes. He was attracted to her right off. The eyes, the hair, he was instantly smitten with her, and it showed on his face. Jesse smirked at his reaction, nudging him slightly in the shoulder. Jim's gaze shot from the girl to Jesse, tainted with confusion.  
  
"What's the matter?" Jesse asked, indicating his look.  
  
"Who's that?" Jim didn't want to assume this was the same Alex that the James brothers had wanted to introduce him to.  
  
Jesse smiled to himself and then, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "That's Alex."  
  
"That's Alex? As in Alexandra?" Jim sounded upset, but managed to keep his voice in check. "Well why didn't y'tell me she was a girl? Look at me! I look like shit! God damn you."  
  
"Actually, it's Alexan-DRIA," Jesse said simply, a small chuckle mottling his words. Jim just stared at him. He smiled again and shoved him a few steps forward. "Well, go say hello or somethin'."  
  
Jim staggered forward and back to the group, where Alex was still chatting with Frank. Frank had his arm looped around her shoulders casually, as they'd been hugging moments before. They looked close enough, as if they were brother and sister, and chances were, if the Jameses had the same relationship with the children as they did with Joe, then they were quite close. Jesse sauntered back to the group after Jim, to the delight of Alex, who'd rushed over and hugged him like she had with Frank.  
  
"Aw, look'it you, gettin' so big!" she giggled and squeezed his cheeks similar to the way you would a baby or toddler. He pushed her hands away with a laugh, and then turned to Jim.  
  
"Alex, I'd like you t'meet someone," he motioned to Jim.  
  
"Jim Younger," Jim extended his hand to her.  
  
She smiled. "I know who y'are, I follow the wanted posters," she took his hand and shook, "I'm so excited t'see y'all! You gonna be stayin' with us for a while?"  
  
"Jus' long enough t'recouperate, right Jess?" he glanced at Jesse, who nodded and smirked at the fact that Jim was still shaking Alex's hand.  
  
"Well, it's uh, it's real good t'have y'all," she said uncertainly, prying her hand from Jim's grip and raising a brow at him. She looked at him strangely and then turned to Jesse. "I missed you guys, it's so borin' 'round here."  
  
Jesse nodded with a smile, nudging a stupefied Jim back into reality. "Yeah, 'member that time me an' Frank chased y'through your daddy's cornfield, scarin' you t'the point where you was screamin' at the top'a your lungs?"  
  
Alex grinned, remembering it well. "I do, but what happened after that?"  
  
"Once you found out it was us y'cried like a little girl."  
  
"I WAS a little girl, Jesse!" she laughed, "'Sides, that's not what happened anyway. You know what happened."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Y'set us up real good, we were real sorry."  
  
"Damn straight. Y'don't mess with a Mueller and not expect payback."  
  
Jesse shoved her playfully, to which she blushed and cleared her throat. "Where'd Frank run off to?"  
  
As if on cue, a large splash sounded behind them. The three turned to see Dean and Lacey standing at the edge of the cliff, which must've meant Frank had plunged into the cool water below. Alex placed her hands on her hips and smiled slightly as Dean leaned over the side of the cliff to see if Frank had surfaced. Seeing he had, Dean launched himself over the edge with a loud cry.  
  
Alex started towards the shore, and after some coaching from Jesse, Jim followed her slowly, his hands tucked into his pockets. Jesse dashed to climb the rocks to get to the top of the cliff as silently as he could, stopping behind Lacey. Lacey didn't seem to notice; he was watching Dean and Frank splash at each other playfully. Jesse grinned and gave Lacey a good shove, causing him to stumble over the edge and plummet into the water.  
  
Alex crossed her arms, but she was still smiling. "Look at those guys.." she trailed off.  
  
"Yeah, they're actin' like idiots," Jim finished for her with a disapproving tone.  
  
She glanced to him slyly. "I was gonna say they looked like they was havin' fun."  
  
"Oh.." he paused. "I mean, it's fun t'be an idiot." He blinked at what he'd said, and looked away, repeating it to himself silently in dissatisfaction.  
  
"Right," Alex drew out the 'i', staring at him strangely. "I'm gonna join 'em an' have fun bein' an idiot, I guess. You comin' with?" she set off into the water.  
  
"Wha..? Oh, yeah," he followed, knowing that it was him that was the idiot.  
  
"You're a bit odd, y'know that, Younger?" she giggled. He blushed, terribly embarrassed.  
  
They headed into the water, paddling over to the other four (Jesse had jumped in after he'd pushed Lacey). Jesse saw Alex coming towards them and took a deep breath, submerging himself. He swam under and to her, latching onto her foot. She let out a terrified scream, startling Jim and Dean as she, too, was submerged. He surfaced, flicking his head in one direction to clear his vision of his hair. She followed in seconds, sputtering and trying to clear her hair from her face. He began to chuckle and she heard him; she turned and smacked him lightly in the head.  
  
"Jesse James! Still actin' like you're fifteen, I see."  
  
"Yup, and you're still as whiny as ever," he grinned. She gasped in mock- offense and dunked him under the water as the others laughed.  
  
They fooled around for a while, enjoying the cool, refreshing feel of the water on their skin. Jesse was grateful for the chance to wash the dirt and sweat and blood off his body, as were Jim and Frank. Besides, they needed to have some fun. With the streak of luck they were having, their morale was at an all-time low. 


	6. and we'd all live happily ever after

Joe had been the epitome of hospitality for the past few days. He, with the help of Alex, had cooked the entirety of the gang three square meals a day excluding the large feast that he'd poured his heart into the first night, as well as offered them completely free rooms and a nice array of spirits for them to drink to their hearts' content. Still, even with this shower of selfless generosity, Jesse felt that his outlaw band was wearing out its welcome as he stood before the Mueller's large dining table, which was laden with food.  
  
The sun was just about setting, falling through the windows in its golden glory that was present just before it become red and then faded to moonlight. Jesse bounced nervously on the balls of his feet, wondering where Tom and his cousins were. They'd left for town to check the newspapers as a group, in case there was someone who'd called for Pinkerton's men, or the local sheriff, so they would have fighting chance if they were ambushed. The odds of that happening were slim, but it was best to play it safe.  
  
There was a sudden scream and Jesse snapped to attention. It sounded like Alex. His head swiveled in the direction of the sharp sound before he dashed out the backdoor into the apple orchid behind the house. He skidded to a stop just outside the door, releasing one of his guns from his holster. Jogging a few more steps, he called out cautiously, "Alex?"  
  
Seconds later, he heard the sounds of words - apologies choked with laughter - coming from the Mueller's bath house and decided to investigate, putting the gun back. It didn't sound like he'd need it. A door banged, and suddenly Alex was in front of him, blushing slightly and smiling sheepishly. Her eyes turned upward to look at him, and before he could say anything, "Jim was takin' a bath." She dropped her eyes again and brushed past him with a short giggle.  
  
He raised one thick eyebrow at her response to his unasked question and continued forward to the bathhouse. "Jim?" he called.  
  
"Yeah?" Jim sounded embarrassed.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I learned that y'gotta let someone know when you're takin' a bath 'round here."  
  
"Walked in on you, huh?"  
  
The rickety door opened to reveal a fully dressed Jim, although it looked as though he'd dressed quickly. There were tiny wet spots from the beads of water that hadn't been dried off his body when he'd gotten out of the bath. His face wasn't angry, but it wasn't placid either. "Yeah."  
  
"Saw everythin', eh?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Well, that's not always bad," Jesse grinned impishly.  
  
"She laughed," Jim said exasperatedly as Jesse chuckled. He stepped out into the fading light and the pair started back into the house.  
  
Jesse was relieved to see that Cole, Bob, and Tom had made it back fine as he stepped into the house. He wasn't, however, pleased to see that for some reason Bob had forgotten his manners. He was shoveling food onto his plate hungrily, but he hadn't even so much as acknowledged that someone else had made it. Jesse moved to thwack Bob upside the head lightly, to which he recoiled with a yelp and rubbed the back of his head as he stared at Jesse and awaited an answer.  
  
"Where're your manners, Bob? These people offer us a place t'stay and good food t'eat an' y'don't thank nobody for it?" he said expectantly.  
  
Bob, stopping his feverishly fast pace of shoveling for a moment, turned to Joe, "Thank you very kindly, sir," he smiled at Joe. His gaze flickered to Jesse and he faked a smile. "There, you happy now?"  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes as he plopped down in between Joe, who sat at the head of the table, and Bob. "Thanks, Joe."  
  
"Anytime, boys," Joe said distractedly as he eyed Jim, who had taken a seat next to Alex and was looking obviously love-struck. He'd noticed similar behavior from his daughter over the past few days as well.  
  
"You didn't mind that we introduced 'em, did you, Joe?" Jesse said as he followed his gaze.  
  
"S'fine, 'bout time she had some fun since her ma died," he paused for a moment, "but if he hurts her.. I'mma deliver that boy a slow an' painful death."  
  
Jesse glanced at Jim, and then looked back to Joe with a smirk. "Not if I get t'him first."  
  
The two laughed a bit, gaining the attention of the other individuals either noisily chattering or chewing except for Dean and Lacey, who were mock-sword fighting with their knives. Alex looked over to them disapprovingly and leaned over the table, muttering something that Jim couldn't hear. Dean giggled at what she said but Lacey nudged him and he stopped, realizing that whatever she'd said she wasn't joking about. As she leaned back, Jim looked at her questioningly, but she said nothing and went back to eating. Jim smirked and leaned in to ask what she'd said to them, but at the same moment she turned her head to say something to him and they bumped heads unceremoniously. Jim pulled back quickly and rubbed his forehead while Alex rubbed her cheek.  
  
"Good one, Younger. Next time knock me out, huh?" she smirked, trying to hide her embarrassment. She was glad nobody had noticed, with the exception of Dean and Lacey.  
  
"Sorry.." suddenly his food was more interesting and stared down at it.  
  
"Aw," she nudged him playfully, "I was only foolin', Younger."  
  
"Yeah, I know," he faked a small laugh just because she said something.  
  
Dean leaned over to Lacey, trying his best to whisper. "I think Jim Younger's got somethin' for Alex."  
  
"Shut up Dean," Lacey responded, pushing him lightly. He waited a moment and then whispered back, "Don't let her hear you, she'll skin y'alive."  
  
Alex cleared her throat and her siblings tensed, fearing that she had in fact been listening. Apparently she hadn't, though, because she wiped her mouth quickly with her napkin and pushed her chair back, gaining a glance from her father. "Daddy, may I be excused?"  
  
"Why, darlin'?"  
  
"I want t'get a head start on the dishes. It's my night, ain't it? An' there're a lot'a dishes."  
  
"Well, I'm sure Jim'll be willin' t'help you," Jesse offered without his younger cousin's consent. Jim's eyes widened, trying to figure out why Jesse seemed so bent on turning his life into a hideous montage of shame and mortification.  
  
"Yeah, Jim's great with dishes," Cole piped from the other end of the table, holding his plate out to Jim.  
  
Jim took it hastily, his eyes going from wide to narrow in nothing flat. "Only 'cause you're such'a pig, Cole. You an' Bob, God damn you're bad."  
  
"Hey!" Bob cried indignantly, wondering why he was being pulled into this argument. The people surrounding the table laughed and he offered Jim his plate, shaking his head lightly with a look of annoyance on his face.  
  
Jim and Alex made their way into the tiny kitchen after they'd gathered as much as they could carry in plates, utensils, and cups. Lifting the washing basin, Alex placed it onto the counter and bent to retrieve one of several previously filled buckets to empty into the large basin. She filled it and followed suit with the others until it was almost full while Jim stacked plates and cups beside it. They rolled up their sleeves simultaneously, and Alex slipped a hairpin out of her dress pocket and twirled up her hair into a tight bun.  
  
At first, the pair worked in silence, Alex washing and Jim drying. She noticed his awkwardness right away, but wasn't sure to go about loosening him up. She thought about it for a moment, and as they were nearing the end of the pile of dishes, she flicked her wrist into the bubble-filled basin expertly. She'd done this before. The soap flew up with the aid of some dishwater and hit Jim in the cheek. He stopped in mid-dry and placed the plate down onto the counter, slowly going to wipe his face with the dishtowel. She giggled at him, pulling her hands from the washbasin and wiping them carelessly on her dress. Her giggles turned to a surprised gasp, however, when she found that suddenly her own face was wet. She stood in that same position for a moment, which led Jim to believe that he'd done something terribly, terribly wrong.  
  
"Sorry," he apologized, eyes widening, "Sorry, I'm real-" He stopped when he felt the cold dishwater connect with his neck.  
  
She giggled again. "Younger, y'need t'lighten up a lil'!"  
  
Jim moved over to the basin and dipped both hands into the cold water, creating a huge splash in her direction and successfully soaking the front of her dress. "Light enough for you?"  
  
She held in a squeal and jumped back in shock, but she was grinning. "Not yet!" She turned, grabbed a half-full bucket of cold water, and tossed it on him.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
They were both dripping at this point, and so loud that they had attracted the attention of Jesse, who sat staring towards the kitchen. "What's goin' on in there?"  
  
Joe pushed himself away from the table, but Jesse, deciding that maybe Joe wouldn't like what he found, held out his arm and stood instead. He began to step into the kitchen, but stopped mid-step as he came across the two soaking teens. A look of surprise, then amusement, found its way to his face. Alex stopped what she was doing, let out a small laugh and dropped her head to hide her grin. Jim turned with a look of confusion, saw his older cousin, and then smiled sheepishly at him.  
  
Jesse cleared his throat in an authoritative manner, finishing his step. "Doesn't look like much washin's gettin' done," he looked pointedly at Alex.  
  
Alex glanced up at him. "Maybe not the dishes. Jim doesn't count?" she motioned vaguely to a very wet Jim.  
  
"Joe's gonna be angry if he knows you two was messin' around instead'a workin'," it was Jim's turn to receive the pointed look.  
  
"Oh, uh, we'll be gettin' back t'work, then," Jim took a quick look at Alex.  
  
"Yeah, okay, Younger," she responded sarcastically, unafraid of the threat of her father. "C'mon, it ain't gonna be no fun if we ain't foolin' around."  
  
"At least keep it down, huh? Sounds like one'a those fancy animal houses in here," he smirked at the pair, lingering a moment before exiting the room.  
  
"We was so close t'finishin' the dishes, too," Alex said, mock-wistfully.  
  
"Well, we can still do 'em, can't we?"  
  
"Sure. I reckon I'd rather dry off first, though," she moved to the hallway linen closet and pulled out two towels. She separated them and threw one to him. He caught it, but most of it flipped up and landed on his head.  
  
"Thanks," his voice was tinged with sarcasm.  
  
"Oh, you're quite welcome," she giggled as she took a glance out the window, and her face twisted into a brief expression of fear. Looking back to him, distracted for a second that he'd started to unbutton his shirt, she cleared her throat. "Hey, Jim, why don't y'go see if anybody wants dessert, huh?"  
  
"There's dessert? What is it?" he asked as she began to forcefully remove him from the room.  
  
"I dunno, I'll think'a somethin'," she responded, ensuring finality of the conversation by pushing him through the door.  
  
Jim exited the room just as a man entered from the back door. He was the same shaky boy that Jesse had noticed from the bank in Savannah; only Jesse wasn't present to identify him as such. He couldn't have been older than twenty; his face was too young to be a day older. He had dressed himself in light brown trousers and a light gray shirt that clung tightly to his chest with the help of suspenders. He had dark brown hair, but it had lightened with all his time spend in the sun. His eyes were dark, a mix of green and brown, and shining with excitement.  
  
He approached the panicked Alex, who had her back to him as she was still facing the door, and wrapped his arms around her. She almost screamed at this method, but he had anticipated as much and his hand was at her mouth moments before to prevent too much sound from escaping. He pulled her away and out of sight of the doorway, turning her around quickly.  
  
"Hello, Alex, darlin'," he had a tight grip on her shoulders as he pulled her in and kissed her quickly. She pulled back in disgust, but he didn't seem to notice. "Who was that you were rushin' out of the kitchen?"  
  
"What're you doin' here?" she whispered, sounding angry and confused and scared at the same time.  
  
"I was in town," he said simply, "You wouldn't be tryin' t'change the subject on me, would you?"  
  
She pulled back once more, breaking his hold on her. "Of course not, Billy Ray. He was nobody. Jus' a friend'a my daddy's."  
  
"He?" the aforementioned boy asked, doubtfully.  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"You messin' 'round with him?"  
  
"What? No! Jus' 'cause he's a man don't mean I'm gonna go off an' fool around with him!"  
  
"Aw, don't you lie t'me, you cheatin'-"  
  
She cut him off, talking in low, angered whispers. "I can't cheat on y'if we ain't together! We ain't never been together, y'loon!"  
  
Billy grinned, knowing this full well. But she was his girl, and he was damned if anybody else was going to lay claim to the same thing. "I like it when you're mean t'me, darlin'," he responded, pushing her into the Mueller's pantry hard.  
  
She almost yelped but managed to keep it to a simple wince as her back connected with the shelves. She pushed herself off quickly to leave, but Billy advanced on her and pinned her against the shelves.  
  
"Billy Ray!" her voice had become louder in its protest. "You let go'a me this instant or I'll-"  
  
Billy again forced himself upon her, pushing his lips to hers hungrily. Alex struggled under her attacker, trying desperately to pull her face from his. She was utterly repulsed by his behavior and prayed silently for someone to come and help her. Someone upstairs had been listening, apparently, because Jim came in a moment later.  
  
"Only Dean wants dessert, an' he says he wants.." he drifted off when he didn't see Alex anywhere. He heard sounds from the pantry, and peeked inside, surprised at his findings. "Alex?"  
  
Billy stopped his assault on poor Alex and whirled around to face Jim confusedly, the looked to Alex expectantly. "Who's this?"  
  
"I'm-" Jim started, but Alex finished from him.  
  
"Jus' a friend, Billy. He's jus' a friend."  
  
In his mind, Billy was convinced she was lying. There was something terribly wrong with him. He scowled deeply, his anger expressed clearly on his face, before lunging forward quickly. "Tramp!" he growled as he brought his fist down on her face as hard as he could.  
  
"What the?!" Jim was taken aback by the ferocity of this intruder. He snapped himself out of his amazed stupor after Alex stumbled backwards, again into the pantry's shelves, and slumped over in unconsciousness. Pushing himself away from the floor, he leapt at Billy, tackling him to the ground. He quickly pushed himself off the older boy, pinning him there with his knee, and then pulling back to say, "Don't you ever hit her!" He punctuated his demand with a forceful punch in the face.  
  
Billy growled and retaliated with a punch of his own, not in an able position to draw his guns. Jim receded, falling onto his back hard as Billy pulled himself up. He reached for his gun, but decided against it, feeling more like killing Jim with his bare hands. To weaken him, Billy kicked Jim in the gut. Before he could suck in air, Billy's hands were crushing his throat. Already careening from his loss of wind, Jim didn't have the strength to overpower his attacker, but he made an attempt to claw viciously at his hands and swing at his face. This attempt was made in vain, however, because Billy had refused to let go, and had even dared to grin.  
  
A gun cocked and suddenly Billy didn't feel like grinning anymore. Alex had come to, and instead of futilely trying to fight Billy off Jim, she had scrambled to get her father. They had assumed that with all the noise the two were just fooling around again, but when she rushed out with a newly forming black eye they were immediately convinced that that wasn't the case. They were now all standing in a very crowded kitchen.  
  
"Let 'im go," Cole's voice sounded from behind his cocked six-gun. Billy let go of Jim as slowly as possible, wishing that they had come moments later, and that he had chosen to just kill him with a gun instead. Jim dropped limply to the floor, coughing hard.  
  
Alex rushed over to him to help, setting him up slowly. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," he coughed and winced, "yeah."  
  
"Good," she said firmly, standing to face Billy in the same manner. "Now, you lissen t'me. I am not your girlfriend. I wasn't never. I want you t'leave me and my friends alone, and if y'don't I swear t'God I'll kill you."  
  
Her words didn't seem to click in his head, and he smiled slightly, to the surprise of the sane people of the room. "But I love you, darlin'. Ain't nobody that can stop me from comin' back here."  
  
"I beg t'differ," Jesse said, cocking his gun along with Bob and Jim, who still sat on the floor.  
  
He looked pleadingly to Alex. "Alex.."  
  
"Git, Billy Ray. The only reason they're not shootin' you is 'cause they don't wanna dirty the floor."  
  
Billy stared at Jim for a moment before he left, much to the relief of Alex, who was shaking in fear and anger. Joe moved to drape an arm around her shoulders as Jesse and Cole helped Jim up. Frank came up on Alex's right flank, tilting her chin up to look at her new shiner. She pulled her head away from Frank, twisted her body from her father, and disappeared into the next room without a word. The creaking of the stairs was heard, and they assumed she was going upstairs to lie down.  
  
"Joe," Jesse said, leaving Jim's side, "who was that?"  
  
"His name's Billy Ray Gorman. Used t'work for me here, when we needed ranch hands. He left t'join some cockaninny gang that the town deadbeat, Ralph Davies, formed. Said they were gonna be the best damn outlaws this side'a the Mississippi, even better than the James-Younger gang," Joe shook his head as he scoffed, "Billy's always been a few horses short'a a wagon, though. Had this.. infatuation with Alex while he was workin'. Always thought he was her man, y'know? Crazy, I tell you. Anyway-"  
  
Jesse stopped him, interested more about the gang that was out to rival them. "About this gang, Joe.. who else is in it?"  
  
"Ah, I dunno. Y'remember the Ford twins?" Jesse nodded. "I think he took 'em with 'im, but they haven't been through here in ages."  
  
"That was the kid from Savannah," Jesse realized, turning to Cole, "wasn't it?"  
  
"I thought he looked familiar!" Cole responded. "Damn, he's a crazy son of a bitch."  
  
Ignoring Cole's comment, Frank decided to join the conversation. "They're out to rival us?"  
  
"I reckon. Maybe jus' t'prove somethin', like you ain't the only ones who can rob a train or two, or maybe jus' 'cause they're greedy. They been usin' your name, too, I think. There was a robbery 'bout two months ago, a guy named Winston got killed-"  
  
"Yeah, I read about that," Bob said helpfully from his position next to Jim. "They pinned that one on us, didn't they?"  
  
"They what?" Jesse said, realizing he must have missed that article.  
  
"They used your name to cover themselves. I think it's a pretty smart thing t'do, I-"  
  
"Bob."  
  
"So innocent people are getting' their hard-earned money taken away from them 'cause'a us?" Frank started again, seriously. He looked at Bob, irritated.  
  
"Reckon we should put a stop t'that. What d'you think, Jesse?" Cole asked coolly.  
  
"I think you've got a good idea there, Cole," Jesse replied, just as cool. "How d'you suggest we stop 'em, cousin?"  
  
"They gotta be close by," Joe chimed in, "Or at least Billy is. An' he could lead y'right to 'em."  
  
"Right. So maybe we can catch up t'him."  
  
"Maybe we can track 'im," Frank suggested with a crafty tone, his eyes darting to Tom, who smiled.  
  
"Yeah, good idea, Frank. You think you can track 'em, Tom?"  
  
"Sure. Should be easy enough. Not too many people come in this way, and it's still pretty light out, so we don't have to wait 'til the morning," the Indian nodded.  
  
"Alrigh', let's go," Cole announced, pulling his gun from his holster and heading out the back door with Tom, Bob, and Frank.  
  
Jim started to follow, but Jesse held out his hand and stopped him. "Stay here, with Alex."  
  
"Hell no, I'm comin'! I'll kill him!" Jim declared, in low but forceful tones.  
  
"Exactly. An' what'll she think'a you then?" Jesse smiled when he saw Jim's hesitant reaction, but it was wiped from his face when Alex came jogging down the stairs.  
  
She had changed into Lacey's trousers and one of her father's shirts, unwilling to get her dress dirty. Her hair was loosened from its bun and rested messily on the nape of her neck. She had donned a holster from God knows where and had loaded it with two almost brand new revolvers. Pulling one out as she descended the stairs, she pointed the barrel at the ceiling and brushed past her father and the other two, muttering, ".. kill that son of a bitch.."  
  
Jim waited until she was out of hearing range to smirk and cross his arms. "I dunno, what'll she think'a me, Jess?"  
  
Jesse stared at him for a second and then shook his head. "Damn it. Alex!"  
  
Jesse and Jim, along with Joe, jogged out the backdoor to see Alex walking off to the Mueller's barn. She was engaged in an argument with Cole, who was protesting her coming with them because it was too dangerous. It made Alex even more determined to come, as she was sure that Cole wouldn't be saying anything if she were a man. He groaned because he knew it was true, but refused to say anything that would reveal to her that she was right. She disappeared into the barn for a moment and Jesse walked up to Cole slowly as Joe followed Alex into the barn to try and talk some sense into her.  
  
"She's not jus' gonna back down, Cole," Jesse said knowingly.  
  
"Well she can't come with us, she'll slow us down. An' what if she gets hurt?"  
  
"She can handle herself. I say she comes with us, jus' this one time. What exactly were y'plannin' on doin'? Leavin' her here and listenin' t'her raise hell when we come back?"  
  
Cole thought a moment. "Yeah, actually."  
  
"She can come. C'mon, Cole."  
  
"Now hold on a minute. A lot'a things've changed since you been gone, Jess. Y'can't jus' come along an' start makin' decisions without consultin' the rest'a us! I'm in charge now, an' I say we ain't takin' her with us!"  
  
Alex arrived just in time to hear Cole's outburst. She narrowed her eyes and wheeled her horse to face him. "Why, Cole? I can handle myself jus' fine," she twirled her gun as an example.  
  
"I did teach her how t'shoot, Cole. She should be alrigh'," Frank offered from his position on his horse.  
  
"You too, Frank?" Cole asked disappointedly, his gaze switching from one cousin to the other. Frank smirked lightly, remembering a similar conversation that ended with Jesse and Cole standing off against one another. Cole huffed indignantly, feeling outnumbered, "Fine. But if she gets hurt I'm not takin' the blame for it."  
  
Alex glared at Cole for a moment and then clicked her tongue lightly, letting her steed know that it was time to ride. Tom turned his horse in the direction that he planned to go in and took off at a slow trot with the rest of the gang in tow. He stopped periodically, sliding off his horse and crouching low to the ground. About half an hour later, Bob noticed a plume of smoke billowing in the distance and called the others' attention to it. The group, with the exception of Cole, picked up their speed. Cole hung back, obviously wary of the whole situation. He couldn't help feeling like this wasn't going to be as easy as they thought it would be. 


	7. with our children and our dogs

"I got 'em, I got 'em!" Billy Ray yelled, trotting up on his black mare, "Jus' like you said, Ralph! They's comin'! I heard 'em! I hea-"  
  
"Quiet!" A husky voice silenced from behind a thick wall of shrubbery. "Get off the damn horse an' hide, y'moron!"  
  
Billy jumped of his horse and slapped it on the rear to ensure its course onward before diving behind the barricade of undergrowth. He landed next to the tall man with the black hair from the Savannah robbery. The twins sat on either side of him, and there was a short man with rust-colored hair and green eyes on the further right. He shifted uneasily on his haunches and looked to the leader.  
  
"Are y'sure this is gonna work, Ralph?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
"It should. If it don't kill 'em, it'll sure as hell get 'em arrested," Ralph answered.  
  
"Well won't they get killed anyhow? Hanged or somethin'?"  
  
"Sure. That's the point, innit? The James- no, jus' the Younger gang.. they wanna monopolize the bank robbin' industry, but we ain't gonna let 'em."  
  
The young man smiled and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "Wait 'til I tell my gal I brought down the Younger gang. She'll be so impressed, I'll definitely get a lil' somethin'!" he grinned to himself while Ralph rolled his eyes.  
  
"Keep it in your pants, Carl," he growled, "an' give 'em the signal, would you? I wanna see if followin' them paid off."  
  
Carl pushed himself up and waved his arms quickly and fitfully, signaling to the many Pinkerton detectives that were also crudely concealed by the bushes that surrounded the clearing. There was a chorus of guns cocking in the silence of the setting sun.  
  
One of the twins, wondering fretfully, asked, "What if the In'jun loses the trail an' they don't come?"  
  
"They will. I pissed 'em off pretty good," Billy said quietly as he cracked his knuckles. "Hey Ralph?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Save the youngest one for me, hunh?"  
  
"The one we knocked out at the bank?"  
  
"Yeah, that one. He's mine."  
  
"We're turnin' all'a them in, stupid."  
  
"Not him."  
  
Ralph sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. But if you ruin this, it's your ass."  
  
Billy settled back, satisfied as he slipped his gun from its holster. Carl glanced at Ralph and then leaned forward, whispering, "Where'd y'find this guy, Ralph?"  
  
The older man turned his head back to Carl. "He's my cousin," he replied, just as quietly. One of the detectives signaled that the gang was approaching and they all fell silent.  
  
The group drew near to their rival's hiding spot. Tom requested they stop so that he could inspect the trail, having noticed that there were footprints that led off to the underbrush. He raised his brow as he squatted low to the ground, looking at the path of footsteps, and then he stood quickly, his eyes suddenly worried and wide. He made a move for his horse, gaining the attention of the rest of the gang.  
  
"It's a trap!" he exclaimed as the Pinkerton's jumped up and revealed themselves, brandishing their guns.  
  
"Shit," Bob groaned dejectedly. Jesse couldn't agree more. He counted about a hundred adversaries, minus the presence of Ralph and his lackeys.  
  
"Thomas Coleman Younger!" a detective, obviously a higher ranking than the others, shouted, "You and your little band of misfits are under arrest!"  
  
"Don't move or we'll shoot the lot'a you," Ralph added, aiming his gun at Jesse. Jesse stared at him, his eyes narrowed but unsettlingly calm.  
  
Billy stepped up to Ralph, telling him quietly, "I changed my mind. We can turn Younger in. So long as we get my Alex back." Then he leaped forward dramatically, playing it up for the detectives. "Wait! They have a hostage! Don't shoot, don't shoot!" He motioned frantically to Alex.  
  
"What?" Alex said confusedly, "I'm not a hostage!"  
  
"They prolly' told her t'say that, or they'd kill her!"  
  
"Miss, we've gotten them under control. You can get off your horse, now, and slowly walk to me. They aren't going to hurt you anymore," the same detective directed coolly.  
  
"They didn't hurt me b'fore!" she cried angrily.  
  
"Then where'd y'get that bruise, darlin'?" Billy inquired loudly, gaining a livid glare from Jim.  
  
Alex touched her face gently, having forgotten that she'd taken a blow to the face earlier. "Shit."  
  
The detective tried again, "It's alright now, come to me. They're not going to hurt you anymore."  
  
Cole leaned in to whisper to Bob, who was closest to Alex. "Grab her, make 'em think she's really a hostage. Tell her t'play along, too. It's gotta be convincin'."  
  
Bob tilted his body back casually, like he hadn't been conspiring moments ago. He waited a few seconds before lunging at her and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her onto his horse. He pushed his gun to her head as she let out a small yelp of uncertainty.  
  
"What're you doin'?!" she sounded panicked.  
  
"Don't move or I'll blow her t'Kingdom Come! They don't call me Bad Bob Younger for nothin'!" Bob addressed the detectives that were going for their guns and whispered to Alex, "Play along."  
  
Alex had already caught on and was making a show of being terrified. It would've been more fun if she weren't doing it for the sake of their lives. Jim, out of the loop, whispered urgently to Cole, "What's he doin'?!"  
  
"Shh, it's fine. All part'a the plan."  
  
Billy, however, hadn't expected for his lie to turn out this way. He didn't move, unsure of if they were serious or not. "Let her go!" he demanded, but really had no power over the situation.  
  
"Oh, be quiet, y'whiny sack'a shit," Cole said irritably. Jesse smirked, his attention not focused on Ralph, as it should have been. Ralph took his chance.  
  
He lunged forward at a distracted (and therefore less likely to be able to counterattack) Jesse, grabbing one of his arms and yanking. Jesse fell to the ground with a thump and was pulled immediately to his feet. Ralph didn't bother to hesitate with twisting Jesse's arm painfully behind his back, nor did he falter when he raised a gun to the famous outlaw's head. The gang couldn't stop him, for if they moved they would surely be riddled with bullets. He grinned sadistically and jerked Jesse forward threateningly.  
  
"Let her go.. or I'll blow his brains out. And I'm not lying," he said pointedly to Bob, cocking his six-gun.  
  
"Don't do it, Bob," Jesse said bravely, trying to angle his arm so as to prevent it from breaking.  
  
Bob completely ignored Jesse and gently lowered his gun from Alex's head. He pulled his hands back and held them up slowly to show that he wasn't planning anything. Alex looked at him in disbelief and he nudged her off his horse. Jim glowered at his older brother heatedly. She dismounted, disregarding the soft coaching of the detective to come to him.  
  
Billy took it upon himself to sweep her up over one of his shoulders. He received one unanimous glare from the outlaws as she let out an angered cry of protest. She slammed on his back with her fists repeatedly, but he didn't fail to drag her off to the side of the action.  
  
"Let. Me. Go!" she commanded, swinging her legs ferociously.  
  
"Play nice, darlin'," he insisted quietly. "You wouldn't want Jesse t'get hurt or anythin', would you?" He placed her down onto her feet, and she looked at him skeptically.  
  
"What're you talkin' about?"  
  
"This all rides on you, darlin'. You act up, he dies."  
  
"Y'can't do that!"  
  
"Watch me," he nodded his head to Ralph and his cousin grinned malevolently, pointing the gun downward. He pulled the trigger and shot right into Jesse's foot. Jesse let out a yell and almost collapsed to his knees; Ralph managed to keep him standing.  
  
"No!" she started forward but was wrenched back. Frank and Jim had similar reactions to Ralph's unnecessary violence.  
  
"We'll take the hostage with us," Billy offered to the detective, who had no idea of the gang's ulterior motives, "an' Mr. James, here. Y'all can handle the rest'a 'em, can't you?" The detective nodded.  
  
Ralph dragged Jesse off and towards a gaggle of horses that had been retrieved by Carl. Billy followed suit with Alex, much to her disapproval. The twins were already mounted and waiting for the departure. Billy moved his horse up to Ralph's, where Alex silently mouthed, "I'm sorry" to Jesse. He nodded, but was still in obvious pain as the gang took off riding. They really only took the two with them as insurance, to make sure that the Younger gang didn't try a daring rescue (not with a gun pressed to their former leader's head).. and maybe so they could beat the living daylights out of Jesse. They were soon out of sight, heading to God knows where, but not completely untraceable.  
  
Bob watched them go from his horse worriedly. "Shit! What in the hell're we gonna do now?"  
  
"I dunno, but they better not hurt her or I swear t'God I'll kill 'em all," Jim confessed darkly. Bob glanced at him and then back at the ominous lines of gun barrels pointed at them.  
  
"Alrigh', look, Jesse can handle himself," Frank tried to be reassuring, "We jus' gotta figure out how t'get rid'a these guys." He motioned to the detectives with his head.  
  
"I say we ride straight into 'em, it won't give 'em time t'react. Half of 'em don't have their guns cocked anyhow," Cole observed softly. He stole a glance at the group and Frank nodded. "On three, okay fellas? One.. Two.."  
  
Cole reared his horse on two and the gang followed his lead. He let out a yell, using that to finish his count instead of the number three, and the group galloped forward. The detectives scattered in panicked clusters, some relocating to level their firearms, some just plain hightailing it back to wherever they came from. The gang was given time to circle back around and whip out their guns before a barrage of bullets started from the barrels of the detectives' rifles.  
  
Frank picked off two as he charged his horse back in the other direction, and he managed to down another, albeit accidentally, as he ran over the man with his horse. Cole was fairing well also, as he dashed forward with a revolver in each hand and his reins in his teeth. Detectives dropped left and right under his fire. Bob, Jim, and Tom were doing their fair share of work as well, and pretty soon, with minimal damage to the gang and almost maximum to the Pinkerton's, there were but three left.  
  
The trio stood in a tightly knit circle, their backs pressed against one another. One of them was shaking, another completely calm, and the third looking extremely furious at the situation. The shaking one spoke as they slid off their horses and surrounded the detectives.  
  
"T-thomas Colem-man Younger," he stuttered as the gang either chuckled or smirked at him, "You.. you're under arrest!"  
  
Cole sighed, "Y'tried that b'fore, remember? It didn't work, an' there were a lot'a y'then, so what makes y'think I'm scared of the three'a you now?"  
  
Bob crossed his arms and raised his brow thoughtfully. "I say we tie 'em up to a tree an' leave 'em t'roast in the sun."  
  
Frank shook his head as he chuckled at Bob's antics. "We can do that after we get some information from 'em.. if they don't cooperate."  
  
"They will, or we'll sick Bob on 'em," Jim announced loudly, and the stuttering detective flinched. He leaned down the detective, "Now, where're they takin' Jesse?"  
  
"We don't know anything. We're just here as backup," the angry-looking one explained irritably.  
  
"Horseshit," Cole spat, firing his gun into the air. The shaky detective screamed like a little girl, much to the group's amusement.  
  
"We don't know anything! Just like he told you!"  
  
Bob grinned and walked over to him, easily intimidating him even without the gun, which he raised and pressed to the man's chest. "Are y'sure?"  
  
The detective nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes! Don't hurt me, please!"  
  
He cocked the gun, "Well, if y'don't know anythin' I guess we gotta kill you. Right, Frank?"  
  
"S'pose so," he shrugged, "nobody'll ever find 'em way out here."  
  
"Wait, wait! We might know.. something. If you let us go, we'll tell you," the cowardly one sputtered, earning a glance from both the angry and calm detectives.  
  
"Well tell us first, 'cause if we let y'go now we ain't gonna get nothin' from you, are we?" Cole said with a chuckle.  
  
"N-no, of course not, sir-"  
  
"Sir? I kinda like the sound'a that," Bob broke in.  
  
"Quiet, Bob, he's tryin' t'tell us somethin'. Go on," Cole motioned to the craven officer.  
  
"They're heading for Pennsylvania.. So he can be tried."  
  
"What happened t'the 'sir'?" Bob questioned.  
  
"..sir," he added.  
  
"Where, exactly, in Pennsylvania?" Frank asked, glancing at Bob impatiently.  
  
"We don't know where. They only told us they were taking him to Pennsylvania, and that they were going to take him by train, but they didn't say which one or which city," the calm one began to speak, he and the angry one had obviously had enough of the fearful blabbermouth.  
  
Jim sighed, annoyed. "He said," he paused a moment to cock his gun and rest it on the scared detective's forehead, "where?"  
  
The lawman shut his eyes tightly, tears beginning to drain slowly from the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth, and at first didn't say anything, but he eventually swallowed hard and muttered, "Philadelphia."  
  
Jim smiled and withdrew the gun from the man's head slowly. He straightened and looked to the others, as if to ask, "what next?" Cole shrugged in response and turned to Frank.  
  
"Do y'think we got enough time t'catch the train?" his brows furrowed.  
  
"I hope. It'll take us too much time t'get t'Pennsylvania on horseback. What railway are they takin' him on?" Frank directed his attention back to the group.  
  
"The C., R.I. and P," the calm detective answered, not expecting these southerners to know which railway that was.  
  
"Oh, really?" Frank asked, mock-surprised. "They'd go all the way t'Iowa t'ride the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific road? Huh. Seems a lil' outta the way t'me."  
  
"He's lying!" the gutless officer spat, trying to undo his partner's folly, "They're taking the Saint Louis, Iron Mountain and Southern. Runs right through Wayne County."  
  
"Ah, well thank y'kindly for your honesty," Frank said with the slightest hint of a smile. "I think we're all done here."  
  
"Whad'dya suggest we do with 'em?" Bob asked.  
  
"I say we tie 'em up to a tree an' leave 'em t'roast in the sun," Frank answered.  
  
"Food for the c'yotes," Cole added.  
  
"What? I thought you.." the frightened detective trailed off and groaned as he was directed to a nearby tree.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Siddown," Frank instructed as he performed the task. Once the three of them were successfully fixed to the tree, he straightened. "I think we gotta catch a train, boys."  
  
Several of them nodded before Cole smiled politely to the three. "Thanks for all the help, fellas. If y'ever need a favor," he allowed for a short pause, "go straight t'hell."  
  
The group mounted their horses collectively and Bob wheeled his horse in the direction of Wayne County, Missouri. "Let's ride!" he yelled to the others, and they took off at a gallop. 


	8. in Hollywood, where the streets are pave...

Authors Note: ColinFanGirl, haha, I love the name!  
  
And now these: -- will mean a difference in setting, but not time. So, it's more of a "meanwhile" symbol. Yeah..  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
".. too late," Jim said breathlessly as the distant sound of a train whistle. The group slowed their horses, discouraged.  
  
"There's got to be another one," Frank was keeping his panic in check as he pushed his horse forward and the rest followed. "We can catch the next one."  
  
"What if there ain't a next one?" Cole asked, not trying to be ignorant but coming off as such.  
  
"We ride like hell t'get t'Pennsylvania, an' hope t'God that he ain't strung up when we get there. Now c'mon, we ain't got time t'waste."  
  
They approached the station at a trotting pace, Cole barely stopping his horse as he jumped from its saddle. He and Frank jogged into the building, Frank walking casually up to the ticket booth to avoid suspicion, Cole taking off his hat and resting it under his arm.  
  
"Excuse me," he started in his most gentlemanly voice, "but could y'tell me when the next train t'Philedelphia is?"  
  
The man glanced up from a piece of paper he was scribbling one thing or another on, taking in Frank and Cole's mildly flustered appearances. Then he turned around and shuffled over to a large chart on the wall, inspecting it. Cole shifted in irritation, placing a hand on his hip as he took a look out the window. Frank was bouncing on the balls of his feet - a habit he'd acquired from his younger brother.  
  
"I'm afraid you're out of luck," the man's returning voice made them snap to attention. "The only Philly-bound train that's comin' through here is a cargo one. The last passenger jus' left about fifteen minutes ago."  
  
Cole turned himself in a circle, cursing softly in his frustration. "Damnit. Frank, what d'we do now?"  
  
Frank stood for a moment, his brow dipped in thought. Then, "What time?"  
  
The man in the ticket booth turned. "Huh?"  
  
"What time does the cargo train come by?"  
  
"Tomorrow mornin', six o'clock."  
  
Frank nodded slowly. "Okay."  
  
"Okay?" Cole questioned his choice of words.  
  
"Yeah," Frank said in a tone that made Cole feel like he should've known why Frank said what he'd said. "C'mon."  
  
They exited the building. Cole stepped out into the sunlight and donned his hat once more. Frank started back towards the gang, a determined look contouring his face. Cole followed, having to skip once or twice to keep up with Frank's quick pace.  
  
"Jim, I want you t'go an' scout out a place for us t'camp. Near, not too far away from the station. Concealed. Got that?" Jim nodded and spurred his horse into a trot. "Tom, Bob, go with him."  
  
Cole turned to his older cousin, "What're you gonna do?"  
  
"Somebody's gotta tell Joe."  
  
"Want me t'go with you?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll need someone t'help me carry the food," Frank said, ending the conversation with his tone. He straddled his horse and waited for Cole to do the same before prompting his horse into a gallop. Cole caught up and glanced sidelong at his friend.  
  
"Jesse's gonna be fine, Frank."  
  
The man returned his glance, "I hope so."  
  
--  
  
It was indeed as his brother feared: Jesse was not fairing well at all. His hands were chained tightly to the wall of the car, to the point were they were purple from poor circulation. Ralph wasn't going to make the same mistake that Thaddeus's men had: Giving him too much freedom. Just as insurance, Billy and the twins had gone to work on him. They'd made it as miserable an experience as possible.  
  
He could barely see through his right eye, as it was swollen near-shut. What he did see was tainted red from the blood that trickled into his vision. His left eye's vision wasn't much to brag about either. They'd been brutal. His nose was throbbing steadily, but he was unsure if it was broken or not. He could feel the warm liquid expand on his upper lip and then drip quickly to the floor as the pool became too large. His lips were bloodstained as well, more or less licked clean after his teeth had cut into the soft flesh of his mouth. His breath was rapid and pained, as if he was terribly winded, but it was just his ribs. Broken. His foot had been torn to smithereens by that bullet. Broken. Like him, broken.  
  
The sudden urge to vomit hit him with the intensity of a typhoon and he winced at the fire that erupted in his chest from it. His head spun and he pitched forward, ignoring the strain on his engorged wrists, and gave in to that compulsion to be sick. To his displeasure, the bile had been replaced with blood, and it splattered to the floor, staining it a violent red. With what remnants of strength he could muster, he scooted himself away from the congealing puddle and whimpered lightly.  
  
The red had dried and crusted to black by the time one of Ralph's lackeys had come in to check on the outlaw. He was followed by Billy Ray and flanked by the twins. The lackey dropped a few pieces of stale bread to the dirty floor, where they conveniently landed in the hardened liquid. The quartet laughed before the nameless minion left the car and Jesse alone with the remainder. One of the twins thrust a small tin cup full of water into Jesse's face, demanding silently that he drink it. He did. Thirstily, one might add.  
  
He finished with a cough and pulled his hand down to wipe at his mouth roughly. Billy Ray scoffed as Jesse's head drooped and he got a good look at the floor.  
  
"Not so tough now, are we, Mister James?" he smirked, crossing his arms.  
  
"I think he has trouble handlin' hisself without his gang 'round t'back him up," the twin that had brought the cup in said tauntingly.  
  
Jesse pulled his head back up slowly, which was obviously a painful motion. Ignoring the searing twangs of hurt screaming from parts of his body he didn't even know he had, he spoke. "Jus' wait 'til I get outta here, you'll see how much I need m'gang t'defend me." He spit the traces of blood still in his mouth at the trio's feet.  
  
The fist twin looked to his brother mock-nervously. "Oh no, Charlie! What're we gonna do?"  
  
Charlie turned his head back to his brother. He seemed hesitant to play along, like something was telling him that this wasn't right. "Ah, cut it out, Dan," he said timidly, not wishing to receive the full scorn of both Billy and Dan (1).  
  
"Goin' yell'a bellied on me, brother?" Dan sounded disappointed.  
  
"Naw, I just don't think.. "  
  
"Don't think what?"  
  
"Don't think we should.. Well, ain't he beat up enough for you? Can't we leave him alone?"  
  
Danny shook his head in disbelief at his twin. Then he turned and punched Jesse hard in the gut. Jesse's whole face knotted in pain and Charlie winced with empathy as he toppled over, blood once again finding its way from his mouth. Billy Ray chuckled.  
  
"Alrigh' fellas, I'm gonna go find my gal. She's 'round here somewhere," he backed towards the door.  
  
"Hurt her and I'll kill you, Gorman," Jesse blurted tiredly.  
  
"Not if we get t'Pennsylvainia an' the damn Yanks try y'first. We'll see who gets killed then, won't we?"  
  
"You bastard," he spit some more blood, "Y'think you're so tough. Why not shoot me now, huh? Save yourselves the trouble?"  
  
Billy stopped his exit and stooped forward so that he was eye level with Jesse. "I would love for nothin' more than t'shoot y'where y'lie, James, but Ralph wants y'alive. Somethin' 'bout the pleasure'a seein' you hanged," his voice was low, dangerous.  
  
"Are y'sure it had nothin' t'do with the size of his.. ?" Jesse trailed off, smirking almost jovially. "Or yours, for that matter?"  
  
Billy grimaced at the insult and stood up quickly. He turned to walk away, but he hesitated a moment and spun back around. In one fluid motion, he viciously kicked Jesse in the face. Jesse's head crashed into the wall with a loud thump and he grunted before slumping over in unconsciousness. Billy narrowed his eyes and now turned to leave.  
  
"Keep an eye on 'im," he muttered as he left, slamming the car door as he did.  
  
--  
  
"You stay away from me, Billy Ray," Alex spat as he entered the car she was being held in and the nameless lackey that was guarding her left.  
  
The black eye that should have been healing was worse than before. There was a small cut on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow, where she had hit her head trying to escape from Billy. She was a frumpy mess, but that didn't seem to bother him.  
  
"Y'really think that that'll work with me, darlin'?" he advanced on her.  
  
"It was worth a try," she backed up, pressing against the far wall, waiting. He closed the gap between them quickly, and she prayed that he slow down a little so she would have enough time to swing at him. Enough time to swing, not enough time to react.  
  
"I-" he started, but she took her chance and swung her arm, putting her whole body into it. She was lucky, her fist connected with his eye and he stumbled backwards, letting out a cry of anger. He spat, "You bitch!"  
  
She attempted to escape but he recovered too quickly and brought his palm to her cheek - hard. She fell back against the wall, stunned. He stooped and grabbed her arms roughly, yanking her up to his face. She grunted and pulled her head away, but his lips found her neck instead. Pushing against him as hard as her farmer's daughter's arms would allow, she tried to make space between them.  
  
He liked the resistance; it made him feel superior knowing that he could stop her any moment. He let her push him, though, for his own chauvinist pleasures. That was a mistake.  
  
She lifted her knee quickly, reflecting his cocky grin for a second before the pain exploded in his groin region. Then he wasn't smiling so much anymore. He yelped and gripped the sleeve of her shirt as the other hand traveled to his throbbing gonads. There were a few more squeaks from him before she pushed him down angrily. Her sleeve ripped as his grasp didn't relent, and he landed on the floor with the material stuck in his hand.  
  
She backed away and made for the nearest exit in search of Jesse. Whipping open the door, she failed to notice the unnamed minion that had been guarding her previous. She gasped as he whirled on her and scooped her up, draping her over his shoulder and escorting her back into the room.  
  
"Lemme go!" she kicked her legs violently and pounded on his back vehemently. He obeyed her wish, dropping her to the floor of the car. She winced as the breath left her and gasped to get it back.  
  
Billy was on his knees by now, too furious to be hurt. He leaned over her and grinned. Her eyes traveled to his face and her brows knitted in confusion. They widened as he brought his fist back and closed as it united with her cheek. He leaned back and breathed heavily, finding time to grimace in pain as he looked at the silent man next to him.  
  
"Y'got any ice?"  
  
--  
  
"Is he even breathin' anymore?" Charlie asked worriedly of their captive.  
  
"Barely," his brother said nonchalantly with a shrug. "Don't touch him, you'll make 'im worse if anything."  
  
"Shouldn't we get a doctor t'look at him? I mean, won't the judges be suspicious?"  
  
"They'll turn the other cheek. It won't matter what he looks like, s'long as he's alive. An' if they do say somethin': He was resisting arrest. A lot."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
  
Author's Note: Yeah, short chapter. I know. Well, for me anyway. I barely broke 2,000 words. But next time.. it'll be longer. I guess. I don't suppose any of you care if I do or not.  
  
1 - Danny and Charlie Ford are loosely based on Robert and Charlie Ford, the brothers that were charged with the murder of the real Jesse James. I only changed Robert's name to Danny for fear of confusion. No, they weren't twins in real life, either. Loosely based. Loosely. 


	9. Actually, they aren't really paved with ...

It was dark.  
  
He was falling.  
  
Well, he couldn't really tell if he was falling. It was too dark. But there was a cool, refreshing sort of wind whipping at his face, so he naturally assumed. It was silent, as well. Save for the periodic buzzing in his ear. He ignored it.  
  
It was dark.  
  
He was falling.  
  
He kind of liked it.  
  
"Shit, he's not even breathin'!"  
  
"Well, pound on his chest a li'l more. That should get 'im goin'."  
  
The buzzing got louder, more frequent. It began to vaguely resemble speech to his ears. He listened a little more. The refreshing breeze stopped suddenly.  
  
"Y'killed him!"  
  
"No I didn't!"  
  
"Quiet. Get 'im outta the irons. Lay 'im out flat."  
  
A sudden, blinding pain in his chest. It faded, ebbed away, and he was content to have it stay that way. But it came again, and this time it left a burning sensation. He decided the only way to remedy this was to try and expel whatever was in there. He coughed out a breath and then started the involuntary process of breathing.  
  
"There we go. See? Told y'I didn't kill 'im."  
  
"Shut up, Dan."  
  
"Wake 'im up."  
  
"I'll do it!"  
  
"And kill 'im again?"  
  
"Shut up, Charlie."  
  
"Wake him up!"  
  
Pain exploded in his body as he was jolted back to consciousness. He held back a scream, letting out only a low groan with his newfound awareness. His eyes opened to intense brightness, although it was already starting to get dark in Philadelphia.  
  
"Mornin', sweetheart," a husky voice leered from somewhere to his left.  
  
He was yanked to his feet before he could even realize who the voice was. Or where he was. Or why his foot hurt so goddamn much. Trying to figure this out, he was escorted (by the underarms and feet dragging, no doubt) out of the car into the cooler dusk of Pennsylvania.  
  
"Jesse?!" someone screeched from far away, "Oh my Lord, what the hell did y'do t'him!?"  
  
Coming back to his senses after the pain subsided to a dull roar, he turned his head slowly in the direction of the voice. "Alex?" he tried weekly, but it was barely audible to even him.  
  
"Jesse! Oh, God damn you, Billy Ray!"  
  
"Keep her quiet!" Ralph roared, tired of hearing her complaints. "Now c'mon, we're s'posed t'report t'the police station."  
  
***  
  
Six o'clock that same night, the cargo train that carried a special load rolled up to the station. Cole, who had been silently anticipating the arrival, roused the others. He kicked Bob's foot lightly and Bob woke with a start, his arms reflexively blocking his face. Cole chuckled slightly and offered his hand to his younger brother. Jim and Frank slid open the huge door and jumped out, followed by the others. They proceeded to stalk around the front of the train, hopingly unnoticed.  
  
"We need horses," Bob complained after they'd been walking for about an hour. "An' where the hell're we goin', anyway?"  
  
"I got a friend up in these parts. We'll stop at her place, see if she can't help us out."  
  
Four heads swiveled in Frank's direction. He raised an inquisitive brow and held out his arms. "What?"  
  
"She?" Cole questioned slowly.  
  
"Yeah," he drawled. "What about it?"  
  
"She?" Cole asked again, with more emphasis on the word.  
  
"Her name's Anna."  
  
"Why didn't y'tell us about her?"  
  
"I didn't think I'd be back here."  
  
"You didn't think you'd.." he stopped, amazed. "How'd y'leave things with her?"  
  
Frank didn't respond. Cole groaned.  
  
"We're screwed. Fellas, better get used t'walkin'."  
  
There was a chorus of groans.  
  
--  
  
"Oh, lookit you," Alex said hopelessly, her hands gently caressing each of his cheeks. The two sat in a cramped jail cell, both on the bed suspended above the floor by chains. Ralph had convinced the officer that she was an accessory to one of Jesse James' murders and therefore should be locked up with him.  
  
"Ah, I'm fine," Jesse shied his head away from her, working mainly on the adrenaline pumping through his system. "You're pretty bad-off, too."  
  
"Thanks," she was sarcastic, but she touched her cheek lightly.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that," his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were trying not to smirk, "just - here," he touched her cheek as well, then moved his hand down to thumb her healing lip, "and here. An' your eye don't seem to be healin' over too well."  
  
"I know. It smarts real awful," she complained, slipping into a deeper farm- daughter's accent. She tended to do that when she was in pain; she didn't have a high threshold for it. "Ribs hurt, too."  
  
"Really? Mine too," he broke into a smile, a small, humorless smile, but still a smile.  
  
Her brow cocked as she studied his face, feeling selfishness flare up in the pit of her stomach. He was in a worse condition than she, and yet he failed to voice it. She stood, ignoring the flame of pain that flickered in her chest, and without a word, gently laid him back. He fought her weakly, insisting he was fine. She shook her head.  
  
"Just lay there for a bit?" she meant it to be declarative, but it came out more or less ending up into a question. Then, more to herself, "I'll see if they can do something for you."  
  
She turned to the wide bars of their cell, stepping up to them and resting her cheek against the cool metal. "'Scuse me?" she called, purposefully thickening her accent now. She wasn't sure if these Yanks had the same soft spot for a sweet country bumpkin that people back home did, but it was worth a try. At first, there was no answer. She tried again, "Hello?"  
  
"What do you want?" a thick voice asked from out of her line of sight. There was a light thud of footfalls and a jingling of keys. She had coerced him into getting off his duff, at least.  
  
"I was wonderin'.." she paused, letting the copious Southern drawl sink into the air, "well, m'friend's hurt real bad, sir. He could die if we don't get 'im to a doctor soon."  
  
"So?" he had appeared now, in all his robust glory. Not fat, like the chief had been. Far from it. He was tall, maybe six feet or so, and built. Light blonde hair, blue eyes. Pleasant features, chiseled and angled in all the right places. Lovely. The outside made up for what was inside.  
  
"So.. d'y'think we could get a doctor t'at least look at him?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Really?" she brightened somewhat.  
  
"No," he responded darkly.  
  
"Could I at least have some bandages, an' maybe a lil' bit of water?"  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
"Please?" she tried.  
  
"Hm," he thought aloud, the gears churning in his head almost audible to her. "Maybe, if you were willing to.. make an exchange?"  
  
Alex was utterly repulsed. So was Jesse, who had been listening intently. He sat up quickly, wincing at the blinding pain and the wave of dizziness that hit him, but unrelenting. He stumbled towards the bars and caught them before diving headfirst into them and narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Now lissen here, you slimy sonuvabitch," he started, "there's no way in hell she'd ever do anythin' like that, so don't come askin' for it."  
  
"Suit yourself," he said dismissively, and left them in silence.  
  
"Jesse.." Alex breathed out as she looked at him. Her arm slipped over his shoulders.  
  
"Alex, don't do anythin' stupid jus' 'cause I'm a lil' banged up. I'll be fine."  
  
"I'm not so sure," she said doubtfully as she guided him back to the cold steel bed and sat him down on it. She slid down next to him and scooted back to the end of the slab. "C'mon an' get some rest." She pulled gently on his arm to get him to lay back; he used her legs as a pillow.  
  
"Everythin's gonna be okay," he assured her through slurred words and closed eyes. She sighed as she leaned her head back against the stone wall.  
  
"I hope so, Jesse. 'Cause you aren't gonna last long if things keep up like this."  
  
--  
  
"We could use some horses. Really," Bob whined. "How long we been walkin' now? Two hours?" Although it seemed to the rest of them that he was complaining out of his own exhaustion, he really just wanted to pick up their pace. The faster they were, the quicker they could find Jesse, and the quicker they could get back home.  
  
"Bob," the other four warned in a unanimous groan. They were avoiding the main roads in fear of being labeled conspicuous. Five cowboys walkin' down the middle'a main street, conspicuous? Shucks, naw.  
  
"How's about we jus' saddle him up an' ride him there?" Cole suggested as if his younger sibling wasn't there, with a tone of annoyance.  
  
"Shut up, Cole," Frank cautioned. Spirits were already damp, and tension was too thick to be starting little squabbles that would end violence-free.  
  
"Are we there yet?" Jim asked tiredly, his age showing through his inquiry.  
  
"Not yet," Frank replied. "Soon."  
  
They fell silent after that. As the sun disappeared over the horizon and they were left in complete darkness, Cole was unsure that Frank still knew where he was going. It felt as though they had passed many of these houses before, and without a torchlight he couldn't tell if he were right or not. Finally, when his insecurities had bore a hole in his stomach and he was doubtful Frank was leading them straight, he spoke up.  
  
"Frank?"  
  
"Yeah?" Frank's voice returned from his left.  
  
"You sure we're goin' the right way? D'you really know your way 'round these parts that well?"  
  
"Yeah," he responded with a tinge of frustration.  
  
"'Kay," Cole said, sounding reassured. They took a few more paces in silence. Then, "When were y'here? When'd y'come here.. meet her?"  
  
"I met her in Missouri. She's a school teacher."  
  
"So why's she here?"  
  
"Her father's Sam Ralston."  
  
"Sam Ralston, that gun tycoon from Independence?"  
  
"The same. Moved her up here a few years ago. Better business, or somethin'."  
  
".. Frank," Cole said, as if he were slowly piecing something together, "is this the 'important issue' y'had t'take care of that y'left us for? When y'quit with Jesse, you went here?"  
  
"What?" Jim, who had been listening in for lack of a better pastime, butted in. He didn't like being reminded that Jesse had left the gang because of him, because he'd gotten hurt.  
  
"Yeah, I did. Left when I found out Jesse'd been arrested."  
  
"Not a long time here, then."  
  
"Nope." Cole could've sworn he sensed something like sadness behind the word. Before he could comment, though, Frank had suddenly turned onto a small pathway that wound and twisted all the way up to a huge Victorian- style mansion.  
  
The home was huge. Cole surmised aloud that it had to be as big as the Younger barn and house combined. The outside was white, but it seemed more of a gray with the lack of luminosity. It was dotted with large windows that showed darkness within them, save for one that peeked out from just under the wraparound porch. In this window, a candle flickered and produced shadows of the residents inside. Just beside the twinkling candlelight window, a front door stood imposingly with angry glass eyes.  
  
Frank slowed them with an outstretched arm before clambering his way up the sturdy porch steps alone. He raised a hand to grip the gold-lacquered doorknocker - in the shape of a dove in mid-flight - and knocked once. It was soft and uncertain, but apparently heard. The door opened. Frank removed his hat and laid it across his chest.  
  
"Hi, Anna."  
  
If he was expecting a verbal response, he didn't receive one. In fact, what he got was a nice hard slap across the face. 


End file.
